


Flight Of The Phoenix

by East02End



Category: Ballum, EastEnders
Genre: Angst, Assassin AU, Champion - Freeform, Crimes, Debts, Hurt/Comfort, Loyalty, M/M, Murder, Secrets & Lies, Slow Burn, prisons, tournament
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:07:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29160885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/East02End/pseuds/East02End
Summary: After he has served a year of hard labour in the prisons of Bycrest for his crimes, The Royal High Prince Ben offers the young assassin Callum Highway his freedom on the condition that he act as his Champion in a Tournament to find a new royal assassin.
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell, Jay Brown & Callum "Halfway" Highway, Jay Brown/Ben Mitchell
Comments: 20
Kudos: 50





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> New idea, it’s weird, I know. But I’ve never written an AU like this before and wanted to give it a go. It will probably end up being really bad and scrapped, but let me know what you think? 
> 
> All the rest of the places are made up. Walford is the Capital. Bycrest is the prison. West Brook is the larger county where the Prison is. Don’t think they’re are many other places.
> 
> I’ll update tags as I go, but I’m pretty bad at them :)

After a year of work and torture in the Prisons of Bycrest, Callum Highway was accustomed to being escorted everywhere in shackles and at sword-point. 

Most of the thousands of prisoners in- or slaves as he thought- received similar treatment, though an extra half-dozen guards always walked Callum to and from the cells. 

That was expected by Walford’s most notorious assassin. 

What he did not usually expect, however, was a hooded man in black at his side—as there was now.

He gripped Callum’s arm as he led him through the shining building in which most of West Brook’s officials, guard and soldiers were housed. They strode down corridors, up flights of stairs, and around and around until Callum hadn’t the slightest chance of finding his way out again.

At least, that was his escort’s intention, because he hadn’t failed to notice when they went up and down the same staircase within a matter of minutes. Nor had he missed when they zigzagged between levels, even though the building was a standard grid of hallways and stairwells. 

As if he’d lose his bearings that easily. He might have been insulted if the guard wasn’t trying so hard.

They entered a particularly long hallway, silent, save for their footsteps. Though the man grasping his arm was tall and strong, he could see nothing of the features concealed beneath his hood. Another tactic meant to confuse and intimidate him. The black clothes were probably a part of it, too. 

His head shifted in his direction, and Callum flashed him a grin. He looked forward again, his iron grip tightening.

It was flattering, he supposed, even if he didn’t know what was happening, or why he’d been waiting for him outside the cell this morning. After a day of work in the prison, finding him standing there with six other guards hadn’t improved his mood.

But his ears had pricked when he’d introduced himself to Callum as Jay Brown, Captain of the Royal Guard. Those were his only words, nothing else.

He hadn’t tasted fear in a while—hadn’t let himself taste fear. When he awoke every morning, he repeated the same words: I will not be afraid. 

For a year, those words had meant the difference between breaking and bending; they him kept from shattering in the darkness of the prison. Not that he’d let the Captain know any of that.

Callum examined the gloved hand holding his arm. The dark leather almost matched the dirt on his skin.

He adjusted his torn and filthy tunic with his free hand and held in his sigh. 

Working inside before sunrise and departing after dusk, he rarely glimpsed the sun. He was frightfully pale beneath the dirt. 

They turned down another hallway, and he studied the stranger’s finely crafted sword. Its shimmering pommel was shaped like an eagle midflight. 

Noticing his stare, his gloved hand descended to rest upon its golden head. Another smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“You’re a long way from Walford, Captain.” Callum said, clearing his throat. “Did you come with the army I heard crashing around earlier?” 

He peered into the darkness beneath his hood but saw nothing. Still, he felt his eyes upon his own face, judging, weighing, testing. He stared right back. Daring him. The Captain of the Royal Guard would be an interesting opponent. Maybe even worthy of some effort. 

Finally, Jay raised his sword hand, and the folds of his cloak fell to conceal the blade. As his cloak shifted, he spied the gold coat of arms embroidered on his tunic. The royal seal.

“What do you care for the armies of Walford?” He replied. How lovely it was to hear a voice like his own, even if he was probably classed as the enemy. He hadn’t even heard voices for months maybe. Only grunts when guards took him to work. 

“Nothing,” Callum said, shrugging. 

Jay let out a low growl of annoyance.

Oh, it’d be nice to see his blood spill across the marble. He’d lost his temper once before. Once when his first guard chose the wrong day to push him too hard. 

Callum still remembered the feeling of embedding his own sword into his gut, and the stickiness of his blood on his hands and face. 

He could disarm two of these guards in a heartbeat. Would the Captain fare better than his late guard? 

Contemplating the potential outcomes, Callum grinned at him again.

“Don’t you look at me like that.” Jay warned, and his hand drifted back toward his sword. 

Callum hid his smirk this time. 

They passed a series of wooden doors that he’d seen a few minutes ago. If he wanted to escape, he simply had to turn left at the next hallway and take the stairs down three flights. The only thing all the intended disorientation had accomplished was to familiarise him with the building. Idiots.

“Where are we going again?” Callum said sweetly, brushing a strand of his hair from his face. 

When Jay didn’t reply, he clenched his jaw.

The halls echoed too loudly for him to attack Jay without alerting the whole building. He hadn’t seen where he’d put the key to his cell, and the six guards who trailed them would be nuisances. Not to mention the shackles.

They entered a hallway hung with iron chandeliers. Outside the windows lining the wall, night had fallen; lanterns kindled so bright they offered few shadows to hide in.

While some of the prisoners were people accused of attempting murder, these days, more and more arrived at actually committing murder. 

As was Callum, his anger getting the better of him, the ease at which he ended his fathers life scared him the first time. Now it had become like second nature to kill. 

Some days, he wondered if he would have been better off dying on the butchering blocks instead. It seemed the King had other ideas, enjoying torturing his prisoners, most dying from sheer exhaustion anyway. 

But he had other things to think about as they continued their walk. Was he finally to be hanged? Sickness coiled in his stomach. 

At last, they stopped before a set of red-and-gold glass doors so thick that he couldn’t see through them. 

Captain Brown jerked his chin at the two guards standing on either side of the doors, and they stomped their spears in greeting.

The captain’s grip tightened until it hurt. He yanked Callum closer, but his feet seemed made of lead and he pulled against him. 

“You’d rather stay in the cells?” He asked, sounding faintly amused.

“Perhaps if I were told what this was all about, I wouldn’t feel so inclined to resist.”

“You’ll find out soon enough.” 

His palms became sweaty. Yes, he was going to die. It had come at last.

The doors groaned open to reveal a throne room. A glass chandelier shaped like a grapevine occupied most of the ceiling, spitting seeds of diamond fire onto the windows along the far side of the room. Compared to the bleakness outside those windows, the extravagance felt like a slap to the face. A reminder of how much they profited from his labor.

“In here,” the Captain of the Guard growled, and shoved him with his free hand, finally releasing Callum. 

Callum stumbled, his calloused feet slipping on the smooth floor as he straightened himself. He looked back to see another six guards appear. 

Fourteen guards, plus the captain. The gold royal emblem embroidered on the breast of black uniforms. These were members of the Royal Family’s personal guard: ruthless, lightning-swift soldiers trained from birth to protect and kill. 

Callum swallowed tightly. Lightheaded and immensely heavy all at once, Callum faced the room. 

On an ornate redwood throne sat a handsome young man. He’d never met him, only hearing him as ruthless, just like his father, Phil, not caring about any of the prisoners. Some would say he enjoyed it, found pleasure in destroying people. Soon to be the King, although he already had followed in his fathers footsteps, taking over far countries in the East. He’d already taken over most of West Brook from his father, not as strong in age anymore, his son stronger. Most of the prisoners, dreaded the day he would officially take over, probably worse than his father. 

His heart stopped as everyone bowed, deep respect for the young man sat on the gold encrusted chair above them, already weighing Callum up, calculating, deciding his fate. 

One word from the Prince and he’d be dead. No one dared go against him, everyone fell into line following every order, step or task from him. 

He was standing in front of the Royal High Prince of Walford. Ben Mitchell.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a note, I changed the title cos I didn’t like it. :))

“Your Highness.” Said the Captain of the Guard.

He straightened from a low bow and removed his hood, revealing close-cropped strawberry-blonde hair. The hood had definitely been meant to intimidate him into submission during their walk. As if that sort of trick could work on him. 

Despite his irritation, Callum blinked at the sight of his face. He was so young, for given such a high status in the royal family. 

“This is he?” The Royal High Prince of Walford asked, and Callum’s head whipped around as the captain nodded. He still didn’t know why he was here. He never usually took that much of an interest. 

The Prince was even known to kill himself, unlike the King, getting his guards to do his dirty work. But the Prince enjoyed it. Maybe that was why Callum was here. Maybe Ben wanted to kill him himself this time. 

Both of them stared at him, waiting for Callum to bow. When he remained upright, Jay shifted on his feet, and the prince glanced at his captain before lifting his chin a bit higher.

If he were bound to die, he would most certainly not spend the last moments of his life in groveling submission.

Thundering steps issued from behind him, and someone grabbed him by the neck, before being thrown to the icy marble floor.

Pain slammed through his face, light splintering his vision. His arms ached as his bound hands kept his joints from properly aligning. 

Though he tried to stop them, tears of pain welled.

“That is the proper way to greet your future king.” A man snapped at Callum. 

The assassin hissed, baring his teeth as he twisted his head to look at the kneeling bastard. 

His dark eyes glittered as his grip tightened on Callum’s neck. If he could move his right arm just a few inches, he could throw him off balance and grab his sword... 

The shackles dug into his stomach, and fizzing, boiling rage turned his face scarlet.

After a too-long moment, the High Prince spoke. “I don’t quite comprehend why you’d force someone to bow when the purpose of the gesture is to display allegiance and respect.” His words were coated with glorious boredom. He was growing bored already. 

Callum tried to pivot a free eye to the prince, but could only see a pair of black leather boots against the white floor.

“It’s clear that you respect me, Duke Hardcastle, but it’s a bit unnecessary to put such effort into forcing Callum Highway to have the same opinion. You and I know very well he has no love for my family. So perhaps your intent is to humiliate him.” He paused, and Callum could have sworn his eyes fell on his face. “But I think he’s had enough of that.” He stopped for another moment, then asked: “Don’t you have a meeting with Walford’s army? I wouldn’t want you to be late, especially when you came all this way to meet with them. There are some potential warriors that need training.”

Understanding the dismissal, his tormentor grunted and released him.

Callum peeled his cheek from the marble but lay on the floor until he stood and left. 

If he managed to escape, perhaps he’d hunt down this Duke Hardcastle fellow and return the warmth of his greeting.

As Callum rose, he frowned at the imprint of grit he left behind on the otherwise spotless floor, and at the clank of his shackles echoing through the silent room. 

But he’d been trained to be an assassin since the age of ten, since the day his brother had started to trained him. 

He wouldn’t be humiliated by anything, least of all being dirty. 

Gathering his pride, Callum lifted his head, his eyes met those of the prince.

Ben Mitchell simply smiled at him. It was a polished smile, and reeked of royal-trained charm. Sprawled across the throne, he had his chin propped by a hand, his golden crown glinting in the soft light. On his emblazoned gold jacket, the royal coat of arms, lay across the entirety of the chest. His red cloak fell gracefully around him and his throne.

Yet there was something in his eyes, strikingly blue and the way they contrasted with his brown-black hair that made him pause. He was achingly handsome, and couldn’t have been older than twenty, no more than twenty five at the most. 

Callum thought of how unfair of him to be royal and beautiful, most likely going to kill him within minutes. 

Callum shifted on his feet as Ben frowned, surveying him too. 

“I thought I asked you to sort him out.” He said to Captain Brown, who stepped forward. 

He’d forgotten there was anyone else in the room for a moment. Callum looked at his stained skin, and he couldn’t suppress the twinge of shame. What a miserable state for a man who used to have it all. Take what he pleased, kill when he pleased. 

Ben’s gaze fell on Callum again, taking him in. In a passing glance, someone could mistake Callum’s eyes as grey. Up close, though, these shades were offset by the brilliant blue shining in the soft light. But it was his hair that caught the attention of most, hair that still maintained a glimmer of its glory. A certain shine. In short, Callum Highway was blessed with a handful of attractive features. 

“I didn’t want to keep you waiting.” Jay replied. 

The Royal High Prince shook his head when Jay reached for Callum. “Don’t bother with the bath just yet. I can see his potential.” The prince straightened, keeping his attention on Callum. “I don’t believe that we’ve ever had the pleasure of an introduction. But, as you probably know, I’m Ben Mitchell, Royal High Prince of Walford, perhaps now High Prince of most of West Brook.”

Callum ignored the surge and crash of bitter emotions that awoke with the name.

“And you’re Callum Highway, Walford’s greatest assassin. Perhaps the greatest assassin in all of West Brook.” He studied Callum’s tensed body before he raised his brow. “You seem a little quiet.” He rested his elbows on his thighs. “I’ve heard some rather fascinating stories about you. How do you find living in Bycrest?”

Callum couldn’t take much more of how arrogant he was. 

“I couldn’t be happier,” He seethed. 

“After a year, you seem to be more or less alive. I wonder how that’s possible when the average life expectancy in these prisons is a month.”

“Quite a mystery, I’m sure.” Callum sighed, readjusting his shackles as if they were lace gloves.

The Prince turned to his captain. “He has somewhat of a tongue, doesn’t he? And he doesn’t sound like the rest of the prisoners.”

“I should hope not!” Callum interjected.

“Your Highness,” Jay snapped at him.

“What?” 

“You will address him as ‘Your Highness.’ ”

Callum gave him a mocking smile, and then returned his attention to the prince.

Ben, to his surprise, laughed. “You do know that you’re now a slave, don’t you? Has your sentence taught you nothing?”

Had his arms been unshackled, he would have crossed them. “I don’t see how working in a prison can teach anything beyond how to follow instructions.”

“And you never tried to escape?”

A slow, wicked smile spread across his lips. “Once.”

The prince’s brows rose, and he turned to Jay. “I wasn’t told that.”

Callum glanced over his shoulder at Jay, who gave his prince an apologetic look. “The Chief informed me this afternoon that there was one incident. Three months—”

“Four months,” Callum interrupted.

“Four months,” Jay said, “after Highway arrived, he attempted to flee.” 

Callum waited for the rest of the story, but he was clearly finished. 

“That’s not even the best part!” Callum grinned. 

“There’s a ‘best part’?” the Crown Prince said, face caught between a wince and a smile.

Jay glared at him before speaking. “There’s no hope of escaping from Bycrest. Your father made sure that each of Bycrest’s guards could shoot a mouse from two hundred paces away. To attempt to flee is suicide.”

“But you’re alive.” Ben said to Callum 

Callum’s smile faded as the memory struck him. “Yes.”

“What happened?” Ben asked.

His eyes turned cold and hard. “I snapped.”

“That’s all you have to offer as an explanation for what you did?” Jay demanded. “Callum killed his overwatch and twenty more guards before they caught him.”

Callum looked at Ben, a small smirk playing on his face, as he studied him. 

“I don’t appreciate you killing my force, but I admire your effort.”

“He was a finger’s tip from the wall before the guards knocked him unconscious.” Jay continued. 

“So?” Ben said.

Callum seethed. “So? Do you know how far the wall is from the prisons?” Ben gave him a blank look. He closed his eyes and sighed dramatically. 

“From my cell, it was four hundred twenty-four feet. I had someone measure.”

“So?” Ben repeated. “Captain Brown, how far do prisoners make it from the cells when they try to escape?”

“Three feet,” he muttered. “Bycrest’s guards usually shoot a man down before he’s moved three feet.”

The Prince’s silence was not Callum’s desired effect. 

“You knew it was suicide,” he said at last, the amusement gone. Perhaps it had been a bad idea for Callum to bring up the wall. 

“Yes,” he said simply. 

“But they didn’t kill you.”

“Your father ordered that I was to be kept alive for as long as possible—to endure the misery that Bycrest gives in abundance.” A chill that had nothing to do with the temperature went through him. “I never intended to escape that day. It just happened?”

The pity in his eyes made Callum want to hit him.

“Do you bear many scars?” asked the prince. 

Callum shrugged and he smiled, forcing the mood to lift as he stepped from his stand. “Turn around, and let me view your back.” 

Callum frowned, but obeyed as he walked to over to him, Jay immediately stepping closer. “I can’t make them out clearly through all this dirt,” the prince said, inspecting what skin showed through the scraps of his shirt. 

Callum scowled even more when he said, “Maybe you should have had that bath actually.”

“When one doesn’t have access to a bath and perfume, I suppose one cannot smell as finely as you, Your Highness.” Callum smiled sweetly, doing his best ‘royal’. 

Ben clicked his tongue and circled him slowly. Jay and all the guards watched them with hands on their swords. As they should. In less than a second, Callum could get his arms over the prince’s head and have his shackles crushing his windpipe. It might be worth it just to see the expression on Jay’s face. 

But the prince went on, oblivious to how dangerously close he stood to Callum. Perhaps he should be insulted. 

“Not as awful as I expected, but . . . well, the suits can cover it, I suppose.”

“Suits?” Ben was standing so near that Callum could see the fine thread detail on his jacket, and smelled not perfume, but horses. He clearly enjoyed riding. But it wasn’t a bad smell. It smelt fresh, sweet. 

Ben stopped in front of him, looking at him for a second. 

“Don’t have something else better to do than stare at me all day?” Callum frowned. 

“Don’t be so hasty, Highway. I was about to say what remarkable eyes you have, but maybe I should say how angry you are?”

Coming within strangling distance of the Royal High Prince of Walford, son of the man who sentenced him to a slow, miserable death, his self-control balanced on a fragile edge, dancing along a cliff.

“I demand to know,” he began, but the Captain of the Guard pulled him back from the prince with spine-snapping force. “I wasn’t going to kill him, you idiot. I’d have done it by now.”

Callum glared at Ben a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. 

“Watch your mouth before I throw you back in the cells.” Jay hissed. 

“Oh, I don’t think you’d do that.” Callum smiled. 

“And why is that?” Jay replied.

Ben strode back to his throne and sat down, his sapphire eyes bright.

Callum looked from one man to another and squared his shoulders. “Because there’s something you want from me, something you want badly enough to drag me here yourselves. I’m not an idiot, though I was foolish enough to be captured in the first place, and I can see that this is some sort of secret business. Why else would you leave the heart of the kingdom and venture this far for me? You’ve been testing me all this time to see if I am physically and mentally sound. Well, I know that I’m still sane, and that I’m not broken, despite what the incident at the wall might suggest. So I demand to be told why you’re here, and what services you wish of me, if I’m not destined for death.”

The men exchanged glances. 

“Intelligent as well as feisty.” Ben smiled. “In that case, I have a proposition for you.”

His chest tightened. Never, not in his dreams, had he imagined that the opportunity to speak with Ben Mitchell would arise. He could kill him so easily, tear that grin from his face. 

He could destroy the king and Ben as he had destroyed Callum.

But perhaps his proposition could lead to escape. If he got beyond the wall, he could make it. Run and run and disappear into the mountains and live in solitude in the dark green of the wild, with a pine-needle carpet and a blanket of stars overhead. He could do it. He just needed to clear the wall. He had come so close before. 

“I’m listening,” Was all Callum said, looking Ben square in the eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

The prince’s eyes shone with amusement at his brashness but lingered a bit too long on his body. 

Callum could have snapped his neck for staring at him like that, yet the fact that he’d even bother to look when he was in such a filthy state. A slow smile spread across his face.

Ben crossed his legs, one wave of his hand. “Leave us,” he ordered the guards. “Jay, stay where you are.”

Callum stepped closer as the guards shuffled out, shutting the door. Foolish, foolish move. But Jay’s face remained unreadable. He couldn’t honestly believe he’d contain him if he tried to escape. He was smaller than the rest, Callum unsure why he was even part of the force let alone Ben’s most trusted guard. 

“This proposal?” Callum asked, straightening himself up. What were they planning that would make them so irresponsible?

The prince chuckled. “Don’t you think it’s risky to be so bold with me when your freedom is on the line?”

Of all the things he could have said, that was what Callum had least expected. “My freedom?” At the sound of the word, he saw a land of pine and snow, of sun-bleached cliffs and white-capped seas, a land where light was swallowed in the velvety green of bumps and hollows—a land that he had forgotten.

“Yes, your freedom. So, I highly suggest, Mr Highway, that you get your arrogance in check before you end up back in the cells.” The prince uncrossed his legs. “Though perhaps your attitude will be useful. I’m not going to pretend that my father’s empire was built on trust and understanding. But you already know that.” 

Callum’s fingers curled as he waited for Ben to continue. His eyes met his again, probing, intent. “My father has gotten it into his head that I need a Champion.”

It took a delicious moment for him to understand. Callum tipped back his head and laughed. “Your father wants me to be your Champion? What, don’t tell me that he’s managed to kill every noble soul out there! Surely there’s one chivalrous knight, one lord of heart and courage that will serve you? You clearly can’t look after yourself if you need more protection?”

“Mind your mouth,” Jay warned from beside him. 

“What about you, hmm?” He said, raising his brows at the captain. “Oh this is too funny! Our beloved king finds you lacking?”

The captain put a hand on his sword. “If you’d be quiet, you’d hear the rest of what His Highness has to tell you. Watch how you speak to the Prince.”

Callum faced Ben, ignoring him. “Well?”

Ben leaned back in his throne, still intently assessing Callum. “My father needs someone to aid the empire, someone to help him maneuver around difficult people. And in turn you will serve me.”

“You mean the two of you needs a lackey for his dirty work. I wouldn’t dream of working for you! Your sick.”

“If you want to put it that bluntly, then, yes.” Ben shrugged, ignoring his last comment. “My Champion would keep his opponents quiet.”

“As quiet as the grave,” Callum said sweetly.

A smile tugged on Ben’s lips, but he kept his face straight. “Yes.”

To work for the King, Phil, of Walford and his son, Ben as their loyal servant. To kill for him—to be a fang in the mouth of the beast that had already consumed half of West Brook... 

“And if I accept?”

“Then, after six years, I’ll grant you your freedom.”

“Six years!” But the word “freedom” echoed through his mind once more.

“If you decline,” Ben said, anticipating his next question, “you’ll remain in Bycrest. It makes no difference to me or my father. It’s your choice, simply.” 

His sapphire eyes became hard, and Callum swallowed. And die there was what Ben didn’t need to add.

Six years as their crooked dagger... or a lifetime in Bycrest. 

“And why has he got you to do his dirty work.”

“My father is away on business, and I need to step up to my duties. The day I become King will be here eventually. It’s only right I start now.” Ben smirked. 

“Your worse than him.” Callum hissed, struggling under Jay’s grip. 

“I suggest you stay still or I won’t stop Jay from killing you.”

“You need me.” Callum seethed. 

“However,” the prince said, “there’s a catch.” 

Callum tried to keep his face neutral as he watched Ben toy with a ring on his finger. 

“The position isn’t being offered to you. Yet. My father thought to have a bit of fun.”

“More killing more like.”

“He’s hosting a tournament. He invited members of his council to each sponsor a would-be Champion to train in the castle and ultimately compete in a duel. Were you to win,” he said with a half smile, “you’d officially be Walford’s Assassin. As my father is away on business, I chose you for us. I’ve heard a lot about your... skills shall we say?”

Callum didn’t return his smile. “Who, exactly, are my competitors?”

Seeing his expression, the prince’s grin faded. “Thieves and warriors from across West Brook.” 

Callum opened his mouth, but Ben cut him off. “If you win, and prove yourself both skilled and trustworthy, my father has sworn to grant you your freedom. And, while you’re my Champion, you’ll receive a considerable salary.”

Callum barely heard his last few words. A tournament! Against some nobody men from god no where! 

“What other competitors?” He demanded.

“None that I’ve heard of. None as famous as you as it seems.” Ben smiled. 

“I want to know!” He cried. 

“That’s enough!” Jay hissed, tightening his strain, Callum giving the smallest whine. “Do you want me to throw you back in the cells?”

“You keep saying that, but don’t do it!” 

Jay dragged Callum backwards slightly, struggling even more. 

“Jay!” Ben snapped. “Do not do anything with our guest unless I say.”

“Guest!” Callum scoffed. “Slave more like.”

“You answer to me.” 

“Apologies, Sir.” Jay muttered, returning Callum back in front of him. 

Callum glared at Ben, swirling the ring around his finger, giving Jay a short nod. 

“I don’t know, nor do I entirely care who you are up against.” He continued. “But I do know that you were the best, and that people still whisper when they mention your name.” He fixed Callum with a stare. “If you’re willing to fight for me, to be my Champion during the months the tournament will go on, I’ll see to it that my father frees you after five years instead of six? A deal? After your release I will find a new Champion for him and me in the future.”

Though he tried to conceal it, Callum could see the tension in Ben’s body. He wanted Callum to say yes. Needed him to say yes so badly he was willing to bargain with him. 

His eyes began glittering. “What do you mean, ‘were the best’?”

“You’ve been in Bycrest for a year. Who knows what you’re still capable of?”

“I’m capable of quite a lot, thank you,” Callum hissed. “I nearly escaped didn’t I?”

“Nearly. Not did.” Ben smirked. “You’ll be told the details of the tournament when we arrive.”

“Not doing that yourself either? What do you do all day, buy yourself gold clothes and drink expensive wine?”

Callum glared at the small smile from Ben. 

“Haven’t you got princesses that need rescuing or whatever?”

“I care not for princesses? Princes however.”

Callum looked taken a back at that, Ben smiling at his confusion. 

“Back to the point, I’ll have someone brief you of the finer details in the near future.”

“Why don’t you start doing things yourself for a change? Instead of getting your slaves to do it for you?”

“Maybe I will inform you myself. Although that depends on whether you’ll try and kill me?”

“And that depends on if I can restrain myself.” Callum smiled sweetly. 

“That mouth again.” Ben clicked his tongue, shaking his head at him.

Callum clenched his jaw, Ben using that annoying charming smile again. Enjoying every minute, casually twirling his ring slowly around his finger, more gold and diamonds rings adorning the rest of his fingers. 

“And we’ll see if you want to leave after five years-“

“Your joking, course I will!” Callum scowled. “I don’t want to spend anymore time with you than your making me.” He hissed. “Why don’t you just tell me what to do now? If you want someone ‘attending to’, you know I’ll do it, so why with this stupid tournament?”

“As I just said, you must prove yourself worthy.”

“Well, I think being a ‘famous assassin’ as you put it, exceeds any sort of proof you might need.”

“Of course.” Jay said, his eyes flashing. “It proves that you’re a criminal, and that we shouldn’t immediately trust you with the Prince’s private business.”

Callum rolled his eyes, giving his best sing-song voice. “I give my solemn oath—”

“I doubt that the Prince would take the word of Walford’s Assassin as bond.” 

“I don’t need training!” 

Ben frowned. “So, you won’t take the offer?”

“Of course I’m going to take the offer!” Callum snapped. His wrists ached against his shackles badly enough that his eyes watered. “I’ll be your absurd Champion if you agree to free me in three years, not five.”

“Four.”

“Three and a half.” Callum pushed, staring him down. 

“Four.” Ben snapped. 

“Fine,” Callum sighed. “It’s a bargain. I might be trading one form of slavery for another, but I’m not a fool.” He could win back his freedom. Freedom. He felt the cold air of the wide- open world, the breeze that swept from the mountains and carried him away. 

He could live far from Walford, the capital that had once been his realm. A realm for doing what he pleased, hunting people, stealing whatever he liked. Away from these horrible people. 

“Hopefully you’re right,” Ben replied. “And hopefully, you’ll live up to your reputation. I anticipate winning, and I won’t be pleased if you make me look foolish.”

“And what if I lose?”

The gleam vanished from his eyes. “You’ll be sent back to Bycrest and serve out the remainder of your sentence.”

Callum’s lovely visions exploded like dust from a slammed book. 

“There’s something you need from me winning.” Callum acknowledged. 

“That’s none of your concern.”

“Got to impress father dearest?”

“That’s enough!” Ben snapped. 

Callum was slightly taken aback at the sudden anger, looking back at Jay, retightening his already painful grip on him. 

“You will do as I say.” Ben continued, composing himself. 

“Then I might as well leap from the window. A year in this place has worn me through— imagine what will happen if I return. I’d be dead by my second year.” 

“You’d be willing to end your own life?” Ben frowned. 

“It would be sane. Your offer seems fair enough.”

“Fair enough indeed,” Ben said, and waved a hand at Jay. 

“Take Callum to his rooms and sort him out.” He fixed him with a stare. “We depart for Walford in the morning. Don’t disappoint me, Highway.”

It was nonsense, of course. How difficult could it be to outshine, outsmart, and then obliterate his competitors? Callum didn’t smile, for he knew that if he did, it would open him to a realm of hope that had long been closed. 

He didn’t notice when Captain Brown led him away, nor did he notice when they walked down hall after hall.

Callum hated the Royal family with a passion after what they did to him, but he would do anything Ben asked, if it meant freedom.

After all, he wasn’t Walford’s Assassin for nothing.


	4. Chapter 4

When Callum finally collapsed onto a bed after his meeting in the throne room, he couldn’t fall asleep, despite the exhaustion in every inch of his body. 

After his bath, the wounds on his back throbbed and his face felt like it had been scrubbed to the bone. 

Shifting to lie on his side to ease the pain in his dressed and bound back, he ran his hand down the mattress, and blinked at the freeness of movement. 

Before he’d gotten into the bath, Jay had finally removed his shackles. 

He’d felt everything—the reverberations of the key turning in the lock of his irons, then again as they loosened and fell to the floor. 

He could still feel the chains hovering just above his skin. 

Looking up at the ceiling, he rotated his raw, burning joints and gave a sigh of contentment.

But it was too strange to lie on a mattress, to have silk caress his skin and a pillow cradle his cheek. He had forgotten what food other than soggy oats and hard bread tasted like, what a clean body and clothes could do to a person. Now it was utterly foreign.

Though his dinner hadn’t been that wonderful. Not only was the roast pheasant unimpressive, but after a few forkfuls, he’d dashed into the bathroom to deposit the contents of his stomach. He wanted to eat, to be full, but his body had gotten used to so much less now. He didn’t have the choice to hunt what he wanted. Set traps and make his own arrows to hunt deer and game. He missed being in the wild. 

He’d wasted away to nothing. Beneath his nightwear, his ribs reached out from inside of him, showing bones where flesh and meat should have been. 

The softness of the mattress smothered him, and he shifted again, lying on his back, despite the pain it gave him. 

His face hadn’t been much better when he glimpsed it in the washroom mirror. It was tired, his cheekbones were sharp, his jaw pronounced, and his eyes slightly dull.

Callum took steadying breaths, savouring the hope. He’d eat. A lot. And exercise. Go hunting again.  
He could be healthy again. Imagining outrageous feasts and regaining his former glory, when he was free, he finally fell asleep. 

~*~

When Ben came to fetch him the next morning, he found him sleeping on the floor, wrapped in a blanket. “Highway.”

Callum made a mumbling noise, burying his face farther into the pillow. 

“Why are you sleeping on the ground?” Callum opened an eye looking up at Ben standing next to him. 

“The bed was uncomfortable,” he said simply, but quickly forgot the prince as he beheld the sunlight. “Shouldn’t Jay be fetching me?”

“Thought I’d come myself. After our- interesting- conversation yesterday, I thought you might appreciate it if I came.”

“Couldn’t care less.” Callum huffed, pulling himself up and perching on the edge of the bed. 

Ben said nothing, frowning at Callum closing his eyes, wrapping his arms around himself. 

Pure, fresh, warm sunlight. Sunlight that he could bask in day after day if he got his freedom, sunlight to drown out the endless dark of the prisons. It leaked in through the heavy drapes, smearing itself across the room in thick lines. 

“You look... different.” Ben acknowledged. 

“Yeah well, a decent bath will do that to you. You wouldn’t know.”

“Maybe not.” Ben nodded. “But I wouldn’t turn down a king sized bed with silk sheets.”

“It was too weird.” Callum whispered. 

Ben smiled at him, shaking his head. “Your very confusing sometimes.”

Callum ignored him, standing up. 

“I am merely saying you look a lot better than yesterday.” Ben put it instead. 

Callum looked at him slowly, still watching him intently. 

“Very kind of you, ‘Your Majesty’” Callum smiled sweetly, bowing dramatically. 

“You have sarcasm as well as attitude and a mouth on you.” Ben smiled. 

Gingerly, Callum stretched out a hand.

He was still so pale, but there was something about it, something beyond the bruises and cuts and scars, that seemed new in the morning light. How his hands used to craft traps set for mere prey and arrows and sharpen his knives. 

He crossed to the window and nearly ripped the curtains from their hangings as he opened them to the gray mountains and bleakness of Bycrest. The guards positioned beneath the window didn’t glance upward. 

“I take it those are for me?”

“Just extra insurance.” Ben answered. 

He watched in awe at the bluish-gray sky, at the clouds shuffling toward the horizon.

I will not be afraid. For the first time in a while, the words felt true.

His lips peeled into a smile. 

“I’ve never seen anyone look at something so simple like that before.”

“I’m not an animal, you know?” Callum frowned. “You don’t have to stare.”

“Don’t take offence in every word I speak. I’m simply saying that you look at the sky like it’s the first sunrise that man’s ever seen.”

Callum closed his eyes, relishing on the sun on his face. 

“I haven’t seen the sun for over a year.” He whispered. 

“I’m sorry.” Ben whispered. 

Callum turned to look at him, actually looking sad for him. 

“You don’t care about anyone but yourself.” Callum said instead, reminding himself of the reason he was out in that place in the first place. It was Ben and Phil that put him there. The worst punishment possible for his crimes. For his killing and his stealing. 

The Prince raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. 

“We must make a leave.” He informed. “If we want to get in Walford for an early start. The horses need to be prepared. My home will be your home for the time being.”

“How very... noble.” Callum smiled overly. 

“The rooms are much better than... this.”

“Your so stereotypical.”

“In what way?” Ben frowned. 

“Nothing, it doesn’t matter.” Callum sighed, looking back out of the window. 

“Tell me.” He insisted. “I wish to know would what you think of me.”

Callum scoffed to himself, shaking his head. “You don’t want to know what I really think of you.” Callum smiled sweetly, looking at Ben. 

“Stereotypical??” Ben sighed. 

“You think this bed isn’t good enough because your a Prince.”

“Correct?”

“Well some of those people still slaving away in there would literally kill to sleep in bed like this.”

“The rooms are much bigger than this at home.” Ben shrugged. 

“You just want bigger beds, more silk sheets, curtains made of gold probably.”

Ben said nothing, looking at Callum intently. 

Callum laughed, shaking his head. “You’ve got curtains made of gold haven’t you?”

“The have gold encrusted lace around them yes?”

“See? Stereotypical. And you wonder why I like to do my own thing.”

“Killing people as you please?? Stealing from the rich? Taking what’s not yours??”

Callum shrugged. “I don’t want to follow all the followers in the herd. I want to be me.”

“A thief and a murderer?”

“Yes.” Callum snapped. 

“Do you still want to add being my Champion onto that list?” Ben said instead, a small smile playing at his lips. 

“If it means getting away from you quicker, then yes. And the rest of your family.”

“Fair point.” Ben shrugged. “Makes no difference to me. Now come, we must go. Get dressed and hurry up about it. I’ll be waiting outside. Don’t keep me waiting.”

~*~

He felt like he wanted to kill someone a little less, as he changed, actually loving the clothes—loved the feeling of silk, of velvet, of satin, of suede—and was fascinated by the grace of seams, the intricate perfection of an embossed surface. 

And when he won this ridiculous competition, when he was free, he could buy all the clothes he wanted.

However, he faltered as he beheld the mounds of bone-coloured rock at the far end of the compound, and the small figures going in and out of the many mouthlike holes of the prison. Work had already begun for the day, work that would continue without him when he left them all to this miserable fate. 

His stomach clenching, Callum averted his eyes from the prisoners, heading out of the room, two guards positioned by his door. 

Callum kept up with Ben as he headed in the direction of the horses, still wearing his cloak, waving behind him as he took authoritive strides. 

Callum was lead to a caravan of horses as yapping filled the air, happy to see their master, and three black dogs sprinted from the center of the caravan to greet them. They were each sleek as arrows—undoubtedly from the Prince’s kennels. 

Callum knelt on one knee, his bound wounds protesting as he cupped their heads and stroked their smooth hair. They licked his fingers and face, their tails slashing the ground like whips.

“You had me worried, Sir. You shouldn’t have gone to see the prisoner without any protection. He’s a trained assassin, you don’t know what he is fully capable of. Even one moment alone with him, is too risky for your safety.”

“I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself, Jay, I’m just as trained as you.”

“I know that, but it’s my duty to protect you, your father would not be pleased if he knew I wasn’t with you and you were alone with him.”

“My father isn’t here.” Ben snapped.

“Apologies.” Jay nodded.

“It doesn’t matter, I had my sword.”

And many more weapons probably concealed underneath his long cloak, Callum thought. 

“Oh and Jay?”

“Yes, Sir?”

“The ‘prisoner’ has a name.” Ben added. “Use it.”

A pair of ebony boots stopped before him, and the dogs immediately calmed and sat. 

Callum lifted his gaze to find the sapphire eyes of the Prince of Walford studying his face. 

He smiled slightly. “How unusual for them to notice you,” he said, scratching one of the dogs behind the ears. “Did you give them food?”

Callum shook his head as Jay stepped behind him, so close that his knees grazed the folds of his forest-green velvet cape. It would take all of two movements to disarm him and have a knife against his throat. 

“Are you fond of dogs?” asked the prince. 

Callum nodded, tugging at his shirt, it already felt so hot. 

“They hate everybody apart from me and Jay. They like you for some reason, without food for a bribe.” Ben smiled. 

“Keep him with you at all times.” He added to Jay. “Don’t let him out of your sight. Who knows how far he’ll get in the forest if he has the chance to escape.” With that, he turned on his heel and strode away, his dogs trailing after him.

Callum scowled as he stood. It was like he was two people outside of the room, treating him just like a slave out here, cold out here.

His frown deepened when he discovered the Captain of the Guard smirking. 

“I don’t know how to ride?”

“Tough, your gonna have to learn quickly. Hurry up, I won’t keep the Prince waiting all day.”

Callum rolled his eyes, swinging his leg over and mounting the horse. 

“Thought you were supposed to be an assassin?” Jay muttered. 

“I am thank you?” Callum frowned. “I use my own two feet to get around, I don’t need yet another slave. Maybe these horses want to be wild?”

“They are the King’s horses. They do what we tell them, so your fine on his one. Now keep your mouth shut for the rest of the way, I don’t fancy listening to you the whole way there.”

“Could say the same about you, actually. I don’t want to speak or spend anymore time with you or the rest of you any longer than I have to.”

“Are you two going to stop arguing today, so we can leave?” Ben sighed, passing them on his own horse. “Just keep him with you?”

“Sorry, Sir.” Jay mumbled immediately, glaring at Callum. 

“You already said that. You seriously think a few chains can stop me from escaping? Your both insane? I escaped for living a few years ago.”

“That is irrelevant now, don’t you think?”

Callum glared at the back of Ben, clearly enjoying it too much. He knew he was doing that annoying smirk again, even with his back to him. 

Callum looked back one last time at the prison. He was truly leaving Bycrest. All those hopeless months, those freezing nights, gone now. As soon as he won this stupid tournament, he’d find a way to escape. Get them to trust him. 

He breathed in deeply. He knew—just knew—that if he tried hard enough, he could fly from his saddle. That is, until he felt iron clamp around his wrist all over again. 

“It that necessary?” Callum sighed. 

“What do you think?” Jay huffed. 

It was Jay, fastening his bandaged wrists into shackles. A long chain led to his horse, where it disappeared beneath the saddlebags. 

He mounted his black stallion, and he considered leaping from his horse and using the chain to hang him from the nearest tree.

It was a rather large company, twenty all together. Behind two imperial flag-bearing guards rode the Prince and Duke Hardcastle. 

Then came a band of six royal guards, surrounding Ben, trained to protect him—from him. All black horses, apart from Ben’s pure white horse. 

Callum tested the chains against his saddle and flicked his eyes to Jay. He didn’t react.

The sun rose higher. After one last inspection of their supplies, they left. 

The wall suddenly loomed, and his blood seemed to flow faster through his veins. The last time he’d been this close to the wall... 

He was so close, closer than anyone had ever gotten before. And now he leaving freely. Well, as freely as they would allow. 

None of the prisoners would ever leave here—even when they died. They just be buried behind the sheds, disposed of, forgotten. 

He suddenly became all more aware of the scars littering his body. 

Even if he won his freedom, if he lived in peace in the countryside, those scars would always remind him of what he’d endured. And that even if he was free, others were not.

Callum faced forward, barely having to do anything, the horse seemingly knowing which way was its home. 

Pushing those thoughts from his mind as they entered the passage through the wall. The interior was thick, almost smoky, and damp. 

The sounds of the horses echoed like rolling thunder, no one speaking. The iron gates opened, and he glimpsed the wicked name of the prison before it split in two and swung wide. Within a few heartbeats, the gates groaned shut behind them. He was out.

He shifted his hands in their shackles, watching the chains sway and clank between him and the Captain of the Guard. Desperately hoping, there would be a weak point in. 

It was attached to his saddle, which was in turn attached around his horse, which, when they stopped, could be subtly unbridled, just enough so that with a fierce tug from his end, the chain would rip the saddle off the beast, Jay would tumble to the ground, and he would—

Callum sensed Captain Brown’s attention. Like he knew Callum was calculating, assessing every area, like he was always trained to do. Scope the area. 

Jay stared at him, his lips tightly pursed, and Callum shrugged as he dropped the chain.

As the morning wore on, the sky became a crisp blue with hardly a cloud. Taking the forest road, they swiftly passed from the mountainous wasteland of Bycrest and into fairer country.

By midmorning they were within the Deep Forest, the wood that surrounded Bycrest and served as a divide between the royal and outer towns and the prisons. 

After hours of silence, Callum turned to Jay. “Rumor has it that once the king is finished with his war against Coleable, he’ll begin colonizing the West.” He said it casually, but hoped Jay would confirm or deny. 

The more he knew of the king’s current position and maneuverings, the better. 

The captain surveyed him up and down, frowned, and then looked away. 

“I mean just think of all the places he could be now.” Callum said, sighing loudly. “The fate of those places decided by him.”

Jay’s jaw tightened as he clamped his teeth.

“Do you intend to ignore me forever?”

Captain Brown’s brows rose. “I didn’t know I was ignoring you.”

Callum took a breath, checking his irritation. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. 

“Why’d Ben pick you then?”

“That’s the Prince to you. And it’s none of your business.”

“I think it should be if I’m to be his Champion? You don’t look like a high ranked soldier.”

“And you don’t look like you’ll be free any time soon.” Jay smiled. 

“Do they not teach you manners in guard school or whatever it’s fancy name is called.”

“I highly doubt you’ll be trained there. Probably in a old barn by one of the other guards.”

“I don’t need training. In case you’ve forgotten-“

“I know who you are.” Jay cut in. 

“I know, it is impressive that I’ve accomplished so much and as nearly famous as him someone could say.”

“Crime isn’t an accomplishment, Highway. And I’ve said numerous times, you don’t address the Prince as Ben or ‘him’.”

“Yes, but becoming the world’s most famous assassin is.”’ Callum chuckled, enjoying winding up Jay. 

He didn’t respond.

“You might ask me how I did it.”

“Did what?” he said tightly.

“Became so talented and famous so quickly.”

“I don’t want to hear about it.”

Those weren’t the words Callum’s wanted to hear.

“You’re not very kind,” He said through his teeth. If he were going to get under his skin, he’d have to push a lot harder.

“You’re a criminal. I’m Captain of the Royal Guard. I’m not obligated to bestow any kindness or conversation upon you. I don’t get paid to talk to thieves. Be grateful the Prince was in a good mood this morning and didn’t keep you locked up in the wagon. If it were up to me, I’d have gagged you too, to keep your mouth shut.”

“Rude.” Callum huffed. “He told you not to put me in there?”

“I follow his orders.” Jay said simply. “Push him and you’ll see just how cruel he can be.”

“Yesterday?”

“That was the Prince being nice.”

~*~

“Don’t you get bored with all this silence?” Callum said after a while. 

“It isn’t silence with you talking in my ear is it?”

“Yeah well, I’d have a guess that you’re rather unpleasant to talk to even when you’re ‘bestowing kindness’ upon others.” 

When he failed to respond again, Callum couldn’t help but feel a bit foolish. A few minutes passed. 

“Are you and the High Prince close friends?”

“My personal life is none of your concern.”

Callum clicked his tongue. “How wellborn are you?”

“Well enough.” His chin lifted almost imperceptibly higher.

“Duke?”

“No.” He said through gritted teeth.

“Lord?” He didn’t reply, and Callum smiled slowly. “Lord Jay Brown? How the court ladies must swoon over you! Mm? I dunno, I wouldn’t personally faint with excitement over you?” Callum grinned. 

Jay looked a little uncomfortable under Callum’s gaze. “Unless your very ‘close close’ with the Prince. I mean he said yesterday, ‘I care not for princesses’.”

Jay shook his head at Callum, trying to imitate Ben, in his best fancy voice. 

“You are way off the mark there.”

“Just friends then, M’lord?” Callum chuckled. 

“Don’t call me that. I’m not given the title of lord.” He said quietly. 

“You have an older brother?”

“No.”

“Then why don’t you bear the title?” Again, no response. 

Callum knew he should stop prying, but he couldn’t help it, it was inbuilt. Learn what you can about the enemies. 

Callum leaned toward him. “Does that annoy you? Do you find that—”

“Shall I gag you, or are you capable of being silent without my assistance?” Jay hissed. 

Jay stared ahead, his face blank again.

Callum tried not to laugh when he grimaced as he began speaking again. 

“Do you wanna be at the front, kissing his feet?” Callum chuckled. 

“No.”

“But your stuck here with me.”

His nostrils flared, trying to keep calm. “Unfortunately.” He said through gritted teeth, gripping the reins of his horse. 

The party halted in a clearing and the soldiers dismounted. Callum looked at Jay, who swung a leg over his horse. 

“Why have we stopped?”

Jay unhooked the chain from his saddle and gave it a firm yank, motioning for Callum to dismount. 

“Lunch and quite frankly, I need a break from you.” He said.


	5. Chapter 5

Callum brushed a stray wisp of his hair from his face and allowed himself to be led into the clearing. 

If wanted to break free, he’d have to go through Jay first. Had they been alone, he might have attempted it, though the chains would make it difficult; but with an entourage of royal guards trained to kill without hesitation...

Jay remained close beside him while a fire was kindled and food prepared from the boxes and sacks of supplies. The soldiers rolled logs to make small circles, where they sat while their companions stirred and fried. 

The High Prince’s dogs, who had dutifully trotted alongside their master, approached the assassin with wagging tails and lay at his feet. At least someone was glad for his company.

Hungry by the time a plate was finally laid in his lap, Callum became a bit more than irritated when the captain did not immediately remove his irons. 

After giving him a long warning look, Jay unlocked his chains and clamped them onto his ankles instead. 

Callum only rolled his eyes as he raised a small portion of meat to his lips, chewing slowly. The last thing he needed was to be sick in front of them. His body wasn’t used to such rich meals anymore.

While the soldiers talked amongst themselves, Callum took in their surroundings. He and Jay sat with five soldiers. 

The Crown Prince, of course, sat with Hardcastle, Callum not knowing his name yet, on their own two logs, far from him. 

While Ben had been all arrogance and amusement the previous night, his features were grave as he spoke to the Duke, glancing at him every so often. His entire body seemed tense, and Callum didn’t fail to notice the way he clenched his jaw when Hardcastle spoke. Whatever their relationship was, it wasn’t warm and friendly, simply business. 

Midbite, Callum tore his focus from the prince to study the trees. The forest had gone silent. The hounds’ ears were erect, though they didn’t seem to be bothered by the stillness. Even the soldiers kept quiet. His heart skipped a beat, the forest was different here.

The leaves dangled like jewels—tiny droplets of ruby, pearl, topaz, amethyst, emerald, and garnet; and a carpet of such riches coated the forest floor around them. Despite the ravages of conquest, this part of the Deep Forest remained untouched. 

It still echoed with the remnants of the power that had once given these trees such unnatural beauty.

He’d been only eight when his brother first took him into the Deep Forest, he brought Callum to the border between Walford and Bycrest. While training him to be an assassin, Callum had often come out here at night, to train himself even more, teaching himself to make traps and arrows and even use flowers and plants to make medicines or medical supplies incase he needed them. He could name most of the herbs and other forest life, something he had taught himself rather be taught by Stuart. 

But he still remembered the beauty of the world before the King of Walford had ordered so much of it burned. Now there was nothing left for him there, nor would there ever be. 

Not many people knew why Callum had become so famous or why he’d killed in the first place. Stuart had simply taught him from a young age to defend himself from their abusive father. And he’d relished in being able to fight back. He wanted more, begging Stuart to train him. Until he grew hungry and taught himself the ways of the wild too. 

And then one day, Callum snapped. It wasn’t intentional, his anger built over so many years of his life, he killed his own father. 

And something in him came alive. He’d killed one man, then simply stopped caring. 

What’s the difference about killing one man or a hundred? He’d have still killed. So he did, just because he could. Taking what he pleased, killing who he felt deserved it.

~*~

He’d never personally met Ben since yesterday, but had only one encounter with his father. He could still see the the darkness in his eyes now, relishing in making Callum get punished for his crimes. 

Callum looked back at Ben, still in deep conversation with the Duke, looking concerned. 

Probably trying to work out who to destroy next, Callum thought. 

It was his family who put him in that horrible place, knowing people said Ben was worse than his father. He’d killed himself, in cold blood, his father usually sitting back and watching his guards, but Ben relished in doing it himself. 

Callum looked at the chain attached to his ankle, wishing he could be free. In the wilderness, where he belonged. Alone, like had been for most of his life now. As soon as he was free, he would get his revenge on the entire family. 

“Damned forest.” 

Callum jarred from his thoughts, snapping his head up to look at a soldier in their circle. 

Another soldier beside him chuckled. “The sooner it’s burned, the better, I say.” 

The other soldiers nodded, and Callum stiffened. “It’s full of hate,” said another.

“Do you expect anything else?” Callum interrupted. 

Jay’s hand darted to his sword as the soldiers turned to him, some of them sneering. 

“This isn’t just any forest.” Callum frowned, pointing with his fork to the woods. “It’s the Deep Forest.”

“My father used to tell me stories about it being full of people like you,” a soldier said. “They’re all gone now.” 

“Like me? Who the hell do you think you are?!”

One took a bite from an apple, glaring at Callum. “Along with those damned wretched trees the King burnt down. Gone now.” 

Another said: “We got rid of them, didn’t we?”

“I’d watch your tongues,” Callum snapped. “I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the trees remember what your wretched leader did to them. Trees aren’t just leaves you know??”

The soldiers laughed. “Not just leaves! Who are you Mother Teresa?” said one.

Bristling, Callum shook his head and took another small forkful of food. “What do you know about the forest, you get your fancy homes and your big pay check from him.” He spat. 

“Good job the king, threw him in the prisons and threw away the key. Don’t know why the Prince has even let him out.”

Callum stood up, dragging the soldier towards him, pressing the fork against his throat. 

“Speak to me like that again. I dare you.” Callum hissed. 

“That’s enough! From all of you.” Jay snapped, pulling Callum away. 

“Anything you pick up I could kill you with. Try me.” Callum goaded the solider.

“Shut up.” Jay hissed his ear, shoving him back down on his log. 

“It’s rude! And none of you care! All you care about is money and power!”

“I said be quiet.” Jay hissed. 

“What’s going on here then?”

Callum ignored Ben appearing next to them, but still wary of the distance. 

“Yeah you stay over there, out of reach like the coward you are.”

“It seems Callum has a short temper.” Jay informed. 

“I suggest you keep quiet, or I will happily turn around and throw you back to where you came from.”

Callum still ignored him, ripping grass of out the ground. 

“I thought so.” Ben smiled. “I don’t appreciate you trying to kill one of my men.”

“Maybe you should tell them to have more respect then.” Callum snapped. 

“You can go and sit over there, if you have to be supervised by Danny.” Ben aimed his soldiers. “You were taught better than rile him up. I didn’t ask you to talk to him or anything other than to make sure he stays close. If I hear another word out of any of you again, I will personally enjoy killing you myself. Don’t wind him up again. I’m not short of soldiers, your easily disposable.”

Callum looked at Ben, the cold glint in his eye present again, daring his men to talk back. 

“Apologies, your majesty.” The soldiers all muttered. 

Ben gave a short nod, waiting for them to leave before turning his attention back to Callum. “Don’t push me, Callum.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Callum flashed a smile, immediately disappearing into a glare. “You go sit back on your dusted down log and go and plot about who your gonna destroy next.”

“Danny does not have a say in what I decide.”

Danny. So that was his name. 

“Another of your lapdogs?”

“I suggest you watch your tone, when speaking to the Prince.” Jay warned. 

“My father allowed him to take some of the land to the south, after he helped during the last war. But he still knows his place. We still own him. He’s just careful.”

“I don’t think you should be telling him this information, Sir.” 

Callum looked at Jay, looking worried. 

“It’s of no use to him. I am merely saying I am not plotting anything. I don’t see why I have to explain myself.”

“Then why are you?” Callum snapped. 

“Maybe so you don’t try and murder Jay too.” Ben shrugged. 

Callum glared at Ben, tearing the grass out of the ground, clearly bare from his rage now. 

“I think your life will be easier if you shut up and finish the rest of your meal, unless you want me to change my mind and throw you in the back of the wagon? I was kind enough to let you out. 

“How very kind of you.” He smiled sweetly. “Still stuck with him though aren’t I?” Callum huffed at Jay.

“Your choice.” Ben shrugged. 

“Oh, so your even kind enough to give me a choice.”

“No, you’ll do what I tell you to. Oh and Jay, I don’t think Callum will be needing that fork anymore.”

“You think that’s gonna stop me? I could snap your neck in seconds before the guards have even realised I have moved.” Callum seethed. “Then where will they be without they’re precious Prince Benjamin. Dead on the ground.”

“You need to learn to watch your mouth or it will get you somewhere you don’t want to be.”

“Do I look like I want to be here.” Callum scowled. 

“Maybe not, but it’s better than being in our prisons I would have thought.”

Callum said nothing, staring at the ground, annoyed that was right.

“That’s what I thought. Now if you don’t mind, I need to get ready for leaving, don’t make me do something I’ll regret.” 

Callum watched him turn on his heel, striding away. 

“Arrogant bastard.” Callum muttered, throwing a stick in his general direction. 

Callum looked at the sunlight filtering through the canopy, how the trees swayed in the wind with their long, bony arms around each other. Callum suppressed a shiver, feeling cold all of a sudden. 

Lunch, thankfully, was over quickly. His chains were transferred to his wrists again, and the horses were refreshed and reloaded. 

They traveled for the remainder of the day, and the assassin sat in silence as he watched the forest pass, the tightness in his chest not easing until they’d left that shimmering glen far behind. His body ached by the time they stopped for the night. 

He didn’t bother to speak at dinner, nor to care when his small tent was erected, guards posted outside, and he was allowed to sleep, still shackled to one of them, Jay disappearing from his post to follow Ben.


	6. Chapter 6

For the next two weeks, they travelled down through the continent, the nights becoming colder, the days shorter. Icy rain kept them company for four days, during which time Callum was so miserably cold that he contemplated throwing himself over the cliff, hopefully dragging Jay with him. 

Everything was wet and half-frozen, and while he could bear sodden hair, he couldn’t withstand the agony of wet shoes, having little sensation in his toes. 

Each night, he’d wrapped them in whatever spare, dry clothing he could find. 

But, as it was autumn weather, the rain disappeared eventually, and cloudless, brilliant skies once more stretched over them.

Callum was half-asleep on his horse when the High Prince pulled out of line and came trotting toward them. His red cape rose and fell in a crimson wave. Above his unadorned white shirt was a fine cobalt-blue broach keeping his cloak in place, trimmed with gold. 

Callum would have snorted, but he did look rather good in his knee-high brown boots. And his leather belt did go nicely—even though the hunting knife seemed a bit too bejewelled. 

He pulled up alongside Jay, a rare smile on his face. “Come with me.” He said to the captain, and jerked his head at the steep, grassy hill that the company was starting to ascend. It wasn’t a command but sounded like an offer. 

“Where?” Jay asked, jangling Callum’s chain for Ben to notice. Wherever he went, Callum went.

“Come see the view.” Ben clarified. “Bring that one, I suppose.” 

Callum bristled. “That one! I am still a person you know!” 

Both of them ignored him like he wasn’t there, moving them out of line, giving his chain a fierce tug. 

Callum grasped the reins as they advanced into a gallop, the tangy smell of horsehair creeping into his nostrils. They rode quickly up the steep hill, the horse jerking and surging beneath him. Callum tried not to wince as he slid backward in the saddle. If he fell, he’d die of humiliation, not ever riden a horse before today. 

But the setting sun emerged from the trees behind them, and his breath caught in his throat as a spire, then three, then six more appeared, piercing the sky.

Atop the hill, Callum stared at the crowning achievement of Walford. The castle. Ben’s home. 

It was gargantuan, a vertical city of shimmering, crystalline towers and bridges, chambers and turrets, domed ballrooms and long, endless hallways. It had been built above the rest of the kingdom, and cost a kingdom’s wealth to construct.

“I lived here all my life and I don’t think I’ll ever get over the view,” the Crown Prince said from his spot on the other side of Jay. The sounds of their approaching party filled the air. 

“Remember when we used to come here at night and lie under the stars all night?”

“Course I do.” Ben smiled. “Father used to get annoyed when we’d go missing again.”

Callum frowned at them both, still not quite sure of their relationship. 

“We don’t get to do that anymore.” Jay informed. 

Callum looked between them, Ben’s face dropping. “I have many duties, as do you. Time is not on our side.”

Jay nodded solemnly, both sitting for a while looking out over the kingdom. 

“We’ve still got a few miles left, and I’d rather navigate these foothills in the daylight. We’ll camp here tonight.” Ben said after awhile. 

“I wonder what your father will think of him.” Jay said.

Callum rolled his eyes, growing impatient at them both talking about him when he was right here. 

“Oh, he’ll be fine—until he opens his mouth. Then the bellowing and the blustering will begin, and I’ll regret wasting the past two months tracking him down. I’ve got everything riding on this.” Ben sighed. “But—well, I think my father has more important matters to worry over.”

Callum couldn’t keep his eyes from the castle. He felt so small, even from far away. He’d forgotten how dwarfing the building was.

The soldiers scurried about, lighting fires and raising tents in a hurry, no doubt wanting to get on Ben’s bad side, Callum thought.

“You look as if you’re facing the prisons again, not your freedom,” the Prince said beside Callum. 

“Practically am aren’t I, if I’m gonna be stuck you for years.”

“Fair enough.” A small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. 

“As soon as I win this stupid thing and stay for the minimum amount possible, I’m long gone.”

“If.” Ben corrected. 

“Oh, come on, you know they’re amateurs to me, or you wouldn’t have ‘tracked me down’ or whatever you said. You know you need me.”

“Confidence. It’s always good to have it.”

Callum rolled his eyes, refusing to look at him, instead looking at the castle. He’d be stuck there for years, until he was finally free. 

“Six years and you can go do whatever you like. I said you could go didn’t I?”

“We agreed four.” Callum snapped. 

“Small minorities-“

“Four.” Callum insisted. 

“Fine. I’m sure I can clear it up with my father.”

“Your that desperate your willing to bargain, it’s amusing actually.”

“I am not desperate.”

Callum looked at Ben, his face grave again. 

“Tell your face that.” 

“What have I told you about speaking to him like that?” Jay snapped from beside them. 

“Leave it.” Ben aimed at him. “He’ll be quiet if I tell him to.”

“You sure about that?” Callum smiled. 

Ben looked at Callum for a while, Callum feeling a little uncomfortable at him ‘assessing’ him again, like he was working out the best way to use him. 

“You’ll be fine in the castle. It’s better than those prisons anyway, you should be grateful.”

“It’s odd to see it.” Callum sighed after awhile of ignoring him again. 

“The city?”

“The city, the castle, the river.” The shadow of the castle grew across the city like a hulking beast. 

“I still don’t entirely know how it happened.”

Callum ignored him, staring out across the hills.

“How you were captured, I mean.”

“None of your business. Ask your father. I’m sure he had a party when he threw me away.”

“Maybe you’ll tell me one day.” Ben simply said. 

“Your not gonna force that out of me too, like you have everything else?” Callum scowled. 

“No.” Ben shrugged. “But I will need to know other formalities if you are to be my Champion.”

“Your slave.” Callum corrected. “And still, no one has told me what this tournament involves.”

“Patience, Highway, Patience.” Ben smiled. “I will, but there’s no point now. When we arrive.”

Callum rolled his eyes again, trying to ignore him. 

“Bycrest must have been terrible.” Ben said. Nothing malicious or mocking lay beneath his words, Callum frowning at him. Did he dare call it sympathy?

“Yes.” He said slowly. “It was.” 

He gave Callum a look that asked for more. 

Well, what did he care if he told Ben? 

Callum sighed, staring out in front of him. “When I arrived, they gave me rags, and chained me to the others, and I endured my whippings with the rest of them. It seems your father had instructed the guards to ‘treat’ me with extra care, cos of what I’ve done everyday since that first day and how long it took them to catch me. I don’t regret killing my own father? I survived out on my own for 8 years before they caught me...”

Ben looked at Callum, trailing off, staring in front of him, like he was seeing ghosts of the past. A sad look crossing his face at everything he’d lost. 

“They took the liberty of rubbing salt into my wounds and whipped me often enough so that some of the gashes never really closed. It was through the kindness of a few prisoners that my wounds didn’t become infected. Every night, one of them stayed up the hours it took to clean my back.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know my father had told them to do that to you.” Ben whispered when he’d stopped talking. 

“Why do you care?” Callum frowned. “You feel like you have all the power throwing people in there whilst your living your royal life in your castle.”

Ben didn’t reply, and only glanced at him before dismounting. 

Had he been a fool to tell him something so personal? He didn’t speak to Callum again that day, except to bark commands.

~*~

Callum awoke with a gasp, a hand on his throat, cold sweat sliding down his back. He had the nightmare before—that he was lying in one of those mass graves in Bycrest. And when he tried to pull himself from the tangle of rotting limbs, he’d been dragged down into a pile twenty bodies deep. And then no one noticed that he was still screaming when they buried him alive.

Nauseated, Callum wrapped his arms around his knees. He breathed—in and out, in and out—trying to calm down. 

Due to the warm weather, they’d foregone sleeping in tents—which gave him an actually pretty decent view of the capital. The illuminated castle rose from the sleeping city like a mound of ice and steam. There was something greenish about it, and it seemed to pulse.

By this time tomorrow, he’d be confined within those walls. But tonight— tonight it was so quiet, like the calm before a storm.

He imagined that the whole world was asleep, enchanted by the sea-green light of the castle. Time came and went, mountains rising and falling, vines creeping over the slumbering city, concealing it with layers of thorns and leaves. He was the only one awake.

Callum pulled his cloak around him, trying to protect himself from the breeze. He would win. He’d win, and serve the King and the Prince, and then vanish into nothing, and think no more of castles or kings or assassins. 

He would never again have anything to do with the rise and fall of kingdoms. He wasn’t fated for anything. Not anymore. 

~*~

A hand upon his sword, Ben watched the assassin from his spot on the other side of the sleeping company. 

There was something sad about him— sitting so still with his legs against his chest, the moonlight colouring his dark hair, making it shine.

No bold, swaggering expressions strutted across his face as the glow of the castle rippled in his eyes.

He wouldn’t lie he wasn’t bad looking, beautiful if he dared think, if a bit strange and sour towards him. Not that it was anything he’d unexpected giving who Ben was. 

It was something in the way that his eyes sparkled when he looked at something lovely in the landscape. He couldn’t understand it.

Callum stared at the castle unflinchingly, his form silhouetted against the blazing brightness that sat on the edge of the River. 

Clouds gathered above them and Callum raised his head. Through a clearing in the swirling mass, a cluster of stars could be seen. He couldn’t help thinking that they gazed down at Callum waiting for him to come home 

No, he had to remember Callum was an assassin with the blessing of a pretty face and sharp wits. 

He washed his hands with blood, and was just as likely to slit his throat as offer him a kind word. 

And Callum was his Champion. He was here to fight for him—and for his freedom. And nothing more. 

Ben sighed lying down, his hand still upon his sword, as he fell asleep.

Still, the image haunted his dreams throughout the night: a lonely man gazing at the stars, and the stars who gazed back, wishing he could go home to them, where he belonged.


	7. Chapter 7

Trumpeters signalled their arrival as they passed through the looming high walls of Walford. 

“Don’t make me regret letting Jay untie you.” Ben whispered to him, Callum ignored him.

Crimson flags depicting the gold coat of arms, flapped in the wind above the capital city, the cobblestone streets were cleared of traffic, and Callum finally unchained, dressed, and next to Ben instead of at the back. 

“I don’t know why people like you so much.” Callum scoffed. 

“What can I say, they either love me or hate me.”

Beneath the smell of spices and horses lay the foundations Ben and his father had built. The air held a hint of the salty waters of the River—different from the salt of Bycrest. 

This brought with it warships from every ocean, merchant vessels crammed with goods and slaves, and fishing boats full of fish. 

From the market stall, people to residents, they all paused as the flag-bearers trotted proudly ahead, and Ben waved, that annoying charming smile plastered on his face. 

They all followed the Prince, who, was swathed in a red cape, pinned over the left breast with a broach fashioned after the royal seal. He wore a golden crown upon his neat hair, and Callum had to concede that he looked rather regal and impressive. 

Young women flocked to them, waving, not caring that Ben wasn’t interested. 

Callum knew how he appeared, seated atop a horse like some prize being brought to the castle. 

“I look ridiculous.” Callum hissed to Ben through his teeth, smiling at the crowd.

“You think I like to wear this?” Ben whispered. 

“I’m surprised you don’t sleep in your crown.”

“I wear this because it’s formalities. You’ll wear what I tell you too. You aren’t a prisoner anymore, your my Champion and you need to dress the part.”

“I still am a prisoner though aren’t I? Clothes weren’t part of the deal, the tournament and years with you were.”

“You don’t know half of the deal, trust me.” Ben smiled. “You just wait until you have to wear the suits and jackets.”

“Over my dead body.” Callum scoffed. 

“Just be quiet and act normally.” 

“I should jump from this horse and run.” Callum said. “I’d vanish in an instant, now you haven’t attached me to your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend. I know your trying to work things out, I won’t give any information you could use against us.”

“Yeah, only because you know I could kill you in a second.”

“Stop asking questions.”

“Am not.” Callum huffed. It was true, really, he needed information on all of them if he was to escape when he could. 

“He’s my brother if you must know.” Ben added, sighing at even telling him.

Callum frowned, none of it making sense. Surely Jay would be a Prince too if he was Ben’s brother. But didn’t want to give Ben the satisfaction of being curious. 

“I could still get far enough without you catching me.” Callum huffed. 

“Yes,” he said, “And you’d get nowhere with three arrows buried in your spine.”

“Such pleasant talk.” Callum smiled sweetly. 

“Try me.” Ben returned the smile. “You don’t wanna see my bad side.”

“You’ve got a permanent bad side.” Callum huffed. 

“You’ve seen nothing.” 

Callum rolled his eyes, knowing Ben was right, he was surrounded by his men. He’d be stupid to try now. He needed to get him to trust him.

They entered the main district, where the crowd swelled between the trees lining the broad avenues of white stone. The storefronts were nearly invisible beyond the crowd, but a ravenous sort of hunger arose in him as they passed shop after shop. 

Each window displayed dresses and tunics, which stood proudly behind lines of sparkling jewellery and broad-rimmed hats clumped together like bouquets of flowers. 

Above it all, the castle loomed, so high he had to tilt his head back to see the uppermost towers. 

Why had they chosen such a long and inconvenient route? Did they really wish to parade about?

Callum swallowed. There was a break in the buildings, and sails spread like moth’s wings greeted them as they turned onto the avenue along the River. 

Ships sat docked along the pier, a mess of rope and netting with sailors calling to each other, too busy to notice the royal procession. 

The city was suddenly separate, ripped from him. People still waved and bowed, cheering and laughing, throwing flowers and other nonsense before their horses. 

Callum suddenly had difficulty breathing. The last time he had been here, the King had sentenced him to a life in Bycrest. Sooner than he would have liked, the iron gate of the castle appeared, latticework doors opened, and a dozen guards flanked the cobblestone path that led through the archway. Spears erect, they held rectangular shields, and their eyes were dark beneath bronze helmets. Each wore a red cape. Their armour, while tarnished, was well crafted from copper and leather.

Beyond the archway sloped a road, lined with trees of gold and silver. The sounds of the city vanished as they passed under another arch and then the castle rose before them.

Ben sighed as he dismounted in the open courtyard. “You can get down now.” He informed him. 

Callum did as he was told, sliding from the saddle on wobbly legs. The castle gleamed everywhere, and a hand clamped on his shoulder. 

“Keep him close.” Ben instructed to Jay, standing behind him again.

“Yes, Sir.”

Stableboys quietly and quickly led their horses away, Ben handing his reins to another. 

“Make sure you treat him well.” He made sure. “It’s supposed to be cold tonight.”

The Stablehand nodded quickly, hurrying away. 

Callum scoffed, not expecting Ben to want to treat his horse with respect at all. 

Jay pulled him to his side, keeping a firm grip on his cloak as the Prince approached. “Seven hundred rooms, military and servant’s quarters, twenty gardens, a game/hunting park, and stables on either side,” said Ben, staring at his home. “Who could ever need so much space?”

Callum managed a weak smile, a bit baffled by his sudden charm. “I don’t know how you can sleep at night with only a wall keeping you from death. I mean, I could certainly infiltrate this place in a few minutes.” 

Callum glanced up, but quickly lowered his focus to the ground. 

He wasn’t afraid of heights, he’d certainly been on a few roofs in his time, mainly sneaking up on people, but the thought of being so high up with nothing to protect his fall made his stomach clench.

“Then you’re like me.” Ben chuckled. “Thank the gods I gave you rooms in the back of the castle. I’d hate for you to be uncomfortable.” 

Callum frowned at Ben, smiling at him, enjoying the sarcasm too much. 

“I’m nothing like you.” He hissed. 

“Oh I think you’ll find we are. In more ways than one. Who doesn’t love a bit of bloodshed?” He smirked, turning back around and taking in the castle. 

Deciding that scowling at him wouldn’t be the wisest decision, knowing deep down not to push him, Callum looked instead toward the massive castle gates. 

The doors were made of cloudy red steel, gaping at him like the mouth of a giant.

“Well,” said Ben. “You’ve eaten and your skin has some colour now. Welcome to my home, Callum Highway.” He nodded at a few passing nobles, who bowed. “The competition begins tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? You’ve told me nothing!” 

“You will, don’t fret.”

Callum scoffed, rolling his shoulders and searched for any sign of his competitors. No one else seemed to be arriving, though.

“Captain Brown will escort you to your rooms, they won’t disappoint. I have to meet with my father,” he said, running his gaze along the body of a particularly well built soldier. 

Ben nodded to Jay. “I’ll see you later.” Without saying another word to Callum, he strode up the steps to the palace, his red cloak blowing in the wind.

“Daddy!”

Callum snapped his head up, frowning at a small girl running from the doors straight to Ben. 

“Miss me?”

“You’ve been gone ages! And you didn’t let me come with you?!”

“It was just a small bit of business. I’m back now, come on you, I’m sure you’ve been your usual naughty self whilst I was away.” 

Callum tilted his head watching them both, both of them with the biggest smile on their faces as they disappeared inside the castle together. 

~*~

The High Prince lived up to his word. 

Callum’s chambers were in a larger wing of the castle, and much bigger than he anticipated. They consisted of a bedroom with an attached bathing chamber and a dressing room, a small dining room, a gaming room and an outdoor balcony. 

Each room was furnished in gold and crimson, his bedroom also decorated with a giant tapestry along one wall, with couches and deep-cushioned chairs scattered in a tasteful manner. 

He was surprised Ben hadn’t decided to keep him in the dungeons below the castle, instead of letting him stay here. 

His balcony overlooked a fountain in one of the gardens, and whichever of the twenty it was, it was beautiful—never mind the guards he spotted posted beneath.

Jay left him, and Callum didn’t wait to hear the door shut before closing himself in his bedroom. 

Between his murmurs of appreciation during Jay’s brief tour of his rooms, he’d counted the windows—twelve—the exits—one— and the guards posted outside his door, windows, and balcony—nine. They were each armed with a sword, knife, and crossbow, and though they’d been alert while their Captain passed by, Callum knew a crossbow wasn’t exactly a light weight to bear for hours on end.

Callum crept to his bedroom window, pressing himself against the marble wall, and glanced down. Sure enough, the guards had already strapped the crossbows across their backs. It would waste precious seconds to grab the weapon and load it—seconds when he could take their swords, cut their throats, and vanish into the gardens. 

Callum smiled as he stepped fully in front of the window to study the garden. Its far border ended in the trees of the game park. He knew enough about the castle to know that he was on the southern side, and if he went through the game park, he’d reach a stone wall and the River beyond.

Callum opened and closed the doors of his armoire, dresser, and vanity. Of course, there weren’t any weapons, not even a fire poker, but he grabbed the few hairpins left in the back of a dresser drawer from someone else and some string he found in a mending basket in his giant dressing room. No needles. 

Callum knelt on the carpeted floor of the dressing room—which was void of clothes—and, one eye on the door behind him, he made quick work of the hairpins, snapping their heads off before binding them all together with the string. 

When he finished, Callum held up the object and frowned.

Well, it wasn’t a knife, but clustered together like that, the jagged points of the broken pins could do some damage. 

He tested the tips with a finger, and winced as it pricked his calloused skin. Yes, it would certainly hurt if he jammed it into a guard’s neck. And disable him long enough for him to grab his weapons.

Callum reentered the bedroom, yawning, and stood on the edge of the mattress to tuck the makeshift weapon into one of the folds of the partial canopy over the bed. 

When he’d concealed it, he glanced around the room again. 

Something about the dimensions seemed a little off—something with the height of the walls, but he couldn’t be sure. Regardless, the canopy provided plenty of hiding places. What else could he take without them noticing? 

Ben had probably had the room looked over before they arrived. 

He listened at the bedroom door for any signs of activity. When he was certain no one was in his chambers, he entered the foyer and strode through it to the gaming room. 

He beheld the billiards cues along the far wall, and the heavy coloured balls stacked on the green felt table, and grinned.

Ben wasn’t nearly as smart as he thought he was.

Ultimately, Callum left the billiards equipment, if only because it would arouse suspicion if it all disappeared, but it would be easy enough to get a stick if he needed to escape, or to use the dense balls to knock the guards unconscious. 

Exhausted, Callum returned to his bedroom and finally hoisted himself onto the enormous bed. 

The mattress was so soft that he sank down a few inches, and it was wide enough for four people to sleep without noticing each other. 

Curling on his side, Callum’s eyes grew heavier and heavier.

~*~

Callum slept for an hour, until a servant announced the arrival of the tailor, to outfit him with proper court attire. And another hour was spent being measured and pinned, and sitting through a presentation of different fabrics and colours. 

“Prince Charming can make me fight for him, but he isn’t gonna get me to wear these horrible clothes.” Callum sighed. 

He hated most of them. A few caught his attention, but when he tried to recommend specific styles that actually looked good on him, he received only the wave of a hand and a curl of the lip. 

He considered jabbing one of the tailor’s pearl- headed pins through his eye, but had a moment of sympathy for being another of Ben’s slaves. 

Callum bathed, feeling almost as dirty as he had in Bycrest, after their long travel and was grateful for the gentle servants who attended him. Many of the wounds had remained as thin white lines, though his back retained most of its damage. 

After nearly two hours of sorting himself out, after a year stuck in the prison, gently shaking his hair out, Callum grinned at the mirror in the dressing room.

He had never looked like this. Even when he’d lived out in the forest, he looked decent for a change. 

He wore a shirt, long sleeves of white, even streaked with gold and even though he wasn’t particularly fussed about an ice-white cloak hung from his shoulders. 

Callum brushed his hair to the side, a certain gloss he’d long lost returning to his hair. But his smile faltered as he remembered why, exactly, he was here.

A Champion indeed. He looked more like Ben’s lapdog.

“Very Handsome.” said an older, female voice, and Callum pivoted, the yards of the cloak swinging around with him. 

It was a woman, tall within the gown of cobalt and peach that marked her as one of the servants of the royal household. 

Her face, was blush-cheeked and finely coloured. She bowed. 

“Linda Carter.” said the woman, rising. “Your personal servant. You must be—” 

“Callum Highway.” He said flatly. “And don’t bow, I’m not royalty.”

Linda’s eyes widened. “Keep that to yourself, Sir.” She whispered. “I have to follow orders and codes.”

“I don’t care, they won’t know what you say when your here and don’t call me Sir either. Just Callum.”

Linda nodded slowly, offering a small smile. 

“Then what do people think about all my guards?” Callum asked.

Linda approached, ignoring Callum’s glower as she adjusted the folds of the assassin’s cloak behind him, fluffing them in the right places. 

“Oh, the other Champions don’t have guards outside their rooms. But don’t fret, I don’t think people take much notice.” She smiled. 

“You think? Ben’s got about a thousand guards surrounding me, and you don’t think people will notice.”

“It’s not my place to speak about His Highness. And you should mind your tongue, too. You don’t want to anger him.”

“I’ll do as I please.” Callum huffed, surveying the face of his servant. 

Why send such a soft woman to serve him? He’d overpower her in a heartbeat. He could easily kill her if he wanted. 

“Then you’ll find yourself back in those prisons. I think it’s in your interests to keep on his good side.” 

Callum said nothing, knowing she was right. He had to keep Ben sweet if he had any chance of getting him to trust him and get away. 

Linda put a hand on her hip. “Oh, don’t scowl—you ruin your face when you look like that!” She reached to pinch Callum’s cheek, and he pulled away.

“Are you mad? I’m an assassin—not some court princess who’s gonna be made to wear pretty dresses.” Callum scoffed. 

Linda tutted, shaking her head at him. “I don’t think His Highness would go as far to make you wear a dress.” She smiled. “You’re still a man, and so long as you’re under my charge, you’ll act like one, or god help me!”

Callum blinked, then slowly said, “You’re awfully bold. You do who I am?”

“And your awfully confident. I’m quite aware of who you are. All I ask is to try not to kill me if your angry.” She smiled. 

Callum shrugged offering her a smile. 

“Feel sorry for you, stuck here to be honest. With the likes of him.”

“You’d be surprised actually. He often spends time with the maids in the kitchen or with the stablehands at the barn. He likes to look after his own horse.”

“What about the hundreds of slaves and servants he has waiting on him hand and foot?” 

“He actually does an awful lot himself. Helps often with the maids, mostly eating the food they’re trying to prepare.” She smiled. “Maybe he does have tendencies to be worse than his father, but other times he’s as soft as anything, especially with his daughter. She’s always wreaking havoc around the place!”

“Thought Ben, ‘cared not for princesses’?”

Callum sighed, filling her in, the look of confusion on her face. 

“Oh, just something he said to me when I first met him.”

“He was still young.” She nodded. “He did not officially started his duties until he was 18 so he wasn’t entirely up to date with the rules shall I say? He spent the night with the head lady, Lola.”

“Not a princess?”

“Precisely. She practically runs this place. Most of the maids, stable hands, the staff. The Prince took a liking to her, because he was always around a lot anyway. This was before he’d decided he’d rather spend his time with his most of the guards.” She smiled. 

“The King doesn’t have any woman for his guards does he?”

“No.” Callum looked at Linda, looking slightly annoyed at that. “I can’t say his father was best pleased about little Lexi, but I guess he was after he’d found out his son would rather be spending his time with princes?” She smiled. 

“An heir for Ben?”

“Exactly. Please do name them officially.”

“I don’t care.” He huffed. 

“The king would only die to keep his country-“

“Didn’t think you were supposed to talk about the King like that? Thought everyone around here seemed to kiss his feet.”

“I would rather not.” She smiled. “But the Prince? He would die just for his daughter, Lexi. He’d do anything for that little girl. It’s part of his duties to protect his country first, but he’d put Lexi first above anything. He isn’t as bad as people make him out to be.”

Callum scoffed to himself, Linda shaking her head at him again. 

“I must get on instead of gossiping, I’ll be around if you need me.”

Callum frowned, as Linda turned to leave. “Don’t make such a face.” She called over her shoulder. “You might stay that way if the wind changes.”

Callum could only gape as she walked away.

~*~

The Royal High Prince stared at his father unblinkingly, waiting for him to speak. Seated on his gold throne, the King of Walford watched him back. 

Sometimes Ben forgot how little he looked like his father. Anyone would think he wasn’t his son at all. 

But Ben, bore little resemblance to him. And then there was the matter of his eyes—not even his mother had his eyes. No one knew where they came from. It sometimes got on his nerves that people would stare, often commenting on how blue his eyes were. 

“He has arrived?” his father asked. His voice was hard, edged with the clash of shields and the scream of arrows. As far as greetings went, that was probably the kindest one he’d get.

“He shouldn’t pose any threat or problem while he’s here.” Ben said as calmly as he could. Picking Callum had been a gamble—a bet against his father’s tolerance. He was about to see if it was worth it.

“You think like every fool he’s murdered.” Ben straightened as the king continued. “He owes allegiance to none but himself, and won’t hesitate at putting a knife through your heart. You will never trust him, not as long as your still breathing.”

“Which is why he’ll be fully capable of winning this tournament of yours.” 

His father said nothing, and Ben went on, his heart racing.

If only his father knew that he hadn’t just ventured to find a Champion to win gold, but also to get out—to get away from him, for as long as he could manage.

Ben steeled his nerve, remembering the words he’d been brooding over for the entire journey from Bycrest. “I guarantee Callum will be able to fulfill his duties. I will see myself how much training he needs, but I doubt he will need much, if any at all. I’ve told you already, he might kill for fun, but he knows what’s he’s doing. He’s got many skills. Stealth, Agility, Wit, Speed. He may be a little weaker from the prisons, but training will soon get him back into his full strength too.”

“If you do mind your tongue, I’ll have him use you for practice. You could do with the training, instead of off, gallivanting with your horses and the maids again.”

“Apologies father. I will not neglect my duties. I will train him myself. I can do this. I’m positive he can win the tournament. The others will have a challenge beating him.”

“Do not doubt me, Ben,” his father challenged. “You might think this... criminal can win, but you forget Duke Hardcastle is sponsoring Keanu. You would have been better off picking a Champion like him—forged in blood and iron on the battlefield. A true Champion.”

Ben stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Don’t you find the title a little ridiculous, I can fight for myself father. I don’t need a knight in shining armour.”

“You will do what I say.” He snapped. “And the way you are, you need all the help you can get.”

“Yes, father.” Ben muttered. 

His father rose from his throne and pointed at the map painted on the far wall of his council chamber. “I am the conqueror of this continent, and soon to be ruler of all the kingdom. You will soon take over the reign and you need someone to protect you at all costs. If anyone will take the fall, your Champion will die in battle, swearing a oath to you, instead of you throwing our kingdom away. You will not question me.”

Ben, realising how close he was to crossing a boundary between impertinence and rebellion—a boundary that he’d been very, very careful to maintain—mumbled his apologies again. 

“We’re at war with other lands.” his father went on. “I have enemies all around. Who better to do our work than someone utterly grateful for being granted not only a second chance, but also wealth and the power of my name?” The king smiled when Ben didn’t reply. 

He tried not to flinch as his father studied him. “Hardcastle tells me that you behaved yourself well on this trip.”

“With Danny as a watchdog, I couldn’t do otherwise.”

“I’ll not have some peasant banging on the gate, wailing that you’ve broken their heart again.” 

Ben’s face coloured, but he did not drop his father’s stare. 

“I’ve toiled too hard and long to establish my empire; you will not complicate it with inappropriate heirs. Marry a proper woman, then dally as you will after you give me a grandson or two. When you are king, you will understand consequences.”

“When I’m king, I won’t declare war in every kingdom.” Ben snapped. “And I don’t care if you think Lexi is inappropriate, I shan’t be marrying a woman and I’ve already told you this numerous times. I don’t care what other people think about me.”

Jay had warned him to watch his mouth when speaking to his father, but when he spoke to him like that, as if he were a pampered idiot.

“Do not speak to me like that.” The King hissed. “You should be concerned about what people think about you. Your often a liability and should be thinking about taking control soon, not off with that silly horse of yours or messing around with your daughter.”

“Perhaps I’ll rule this kingdom, alongside all my inappropriate heirs, if I’m so fortunate.”

The king gave him a poisonous smile. “My son will use that attitude to reign over kingdoms and I’ll make sure of it.”

They watched each other in silence before Ben spoke again.

“Perhaps you should consider our difficulty in getting past yet another kingdom your trying to conquer. Their defences, instead of playing at being a god.”

“Playing?” The king smiled, his teeth glowing in the firelight. “I am not playing. And this is not a game.” 

Ben’s shoulders stiffened. “Though he may look pleasant, he’s still our prisoner. You are to keep your distance after your training sessions, understood?”

“Who? The assassin?”

“He’s dangerous, boy, even if you’re sponsoring him. He wants one thing and one thing only—don’t think he won’t use you to get it. If you get too close, the consequences will not be pleasant. Not from him, and not from me.”

“And if I were to associate with him, what would you do, father? Throw me in the prisons as well?”

His father was upon him before Ben could brace himself. 

The back of the king’s hand connected with Ben’s cheek, and the prince staggered, but regained his countenance. 

His face throbbed, stinging so badly he fought to keep his eyes from watering. “Son or no son,” the king snarled, “I am still your king. You will obey me, Ben Mitchell, or you will pay. I’ll have no more of your questioning.”

Knowing he’d only cause more trouble for himself if he stayed, the Royal High Prince of Walford bowed silently and left his father, eyes gleaming with barely controlled anger.


	8. Chapter 8

Callum walked down a marble hall, his cloak flowing behind him in a wave. He did feel a little ridiculous but knew he had to wear whatever Ben told him too. He’d only refuse to let him out of his room otherwise.

Ben strode beside him, a still hand on the eagle-shaped pommel of his sword.

“Is there anything interesting down this hall?” Callum frowned.

“What else would you care to see? We’ve already seen all the gardens, the ballrooms, the historical rooms, and the nicest views offered from the castle, there’s nothing else to see?”

“I still don’t get why your doing this, why not send one of your slaves or Jay.”

“My fathers instructions are to train you myself and if you insisted on a tour, then I am obliged to take you myself.”

He’d managed to convince Ben to give him a tour of extreme boredom—when, in fact, he’d used every moment to plot a dozen escape routes from his room.

The castle was old, and most of its halls and stairwells went nowhere; escaping would require some thought. But with the tournament beginning tomorrow, what else did he have to do? And what better way to prepare for a potential disaster?

“I don’t get it with you and Jay?”

“That’s none of your concern and he’s the Captain of the Guard to you.”

“How can he be your brother if he isn’t a prince?” Callum went on, ignoring the eye roll from Ben.

Callum smiled to himself getting it out of him as Ben sighed.

“My father took pity on him, the very one instance he ever had. Jay’s father died in the war when he was young and he had no one. My father took him in. We grew up together and he’s more like my brother.”

“Why does he talk to you like that if he’s your friend.? Your highness. Sir, Your Majesty, let me lick your feet and kiss you.”

“You are very rude sometimes.” Ben sighed. “He’s doing his job. Like all members of the royal court should do. He still answers to me.”

Callum raised his eyes, the same authority coming out again.

“What is it?” Ben frowned, noticing the look on Callum’s face.

Callum shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Jay does what I tell him when he wears our emblem. After? Then he can be my brother and friend. He’s good at what he does. Loyal.”

Callum scoffed. “Hasn’t really got a choice has he? After your father took him in. A debt that will never get paid. You’d only kill him if he stepped out of line. You go on about being his brother and friend but you wouldn’t hesitate to kill him.”

“And you’d know? Having killed many.”

“Yeah I would actually.” Callum shot back.

“I would never kill Jay actually. We’re very close.”

Callum scoffed, still following Ben.

“So why did you kill your own father?”

“Why do you care?” Callum huffed.

“Your intriguing.” Ben smiled. “Your not the same as the others.”

“Other prisoners you mean.” Callum cut in.

“But you aren’t a prisoner anymore are you?”

“Course I am?! I’m stuck here with you, until you get bored and kill me. And even then if I don’t win this stupid tournament, you’ll throw me back in Bycrest until I die. And say I do win, I’ll STILL be stuck with you for years.”

“I wouldn’t kill you.” Callum looked at Ben looking so sure. “I chose you didn’t I?”

“Only because you know I won’t hesitate to kill.”

“Partly yes, but as much as I hate to admit it and you’ll love me saying this, I know your good at what you do. And I think you have a very high chance of winning this tournament. As long as you train hard.”

“I don’t need you to train me.” Callum huffed. “You know I can do this.”

“Yes I do.” Ben continued as Callum snapped his head up looking at him. “But you still need to start looking after yourself if you want your strength to return. You know your not as fit as you were before and you need to be for you to have a good chance of beating the others. Danny doesn’t require Keanu to train very much at all, whereas you do.”

“No thanks to you. I’d be fine if you didn’t throw me in that prison.”

“You know why you got put there.” Ben snapped. “And it wasn’t entirely my fault.”

“Pfft, think what you want if it makes you feel better. Your just like your father.” Callum snapped, spinning around and walking the other way.

Ben rolled his eyes at Callum being stubborn again.

“Callum, I will take you back if you don’t turn around and get back here?”

“Do what you like?” He glared spinning back around, facing Ben.

“Don’t make me.” He warned. “It’s this or back in prison, see as I care?”

Callum groaned, knowing Ben was right. He could throw him back in Bycrest at any time he liked and Callum would be stuck again. At least this way, he had a chance of escaping easily, in time.

“Thank you.” Ben said through gritted teeth. “It was your idea for this tour anyway. So stop acting like a child and come with me.”

“You’ll do what you want anyway. In fact I was wrong, your worse than that wretched man.”

“That is my father and your King and if you have anything else to say then say it in your head, am I clear?”

“Whatever.” Callum sighed.

“Do you understand?” He insisted.

“Yes!”

“You will treat my family with some respect in the future.”

“Of course your Royal Highness.” Callum smiled, bowing dramatically. “Whatever you say, Sir.”

“Your lucky I didn’t make Jay come with us, attach you to him again. I must be crazy, walking around with you unguarded.”

“How very kind of you.” Callum smiled sweetly. “I’ll try not to kill you. Can’t make any promises though.”

They stared each other down for a moment, daring the other to move.

“Now, if you’ll stop being so stubborn and being you, we’ll go this way.”

Callum rolled his eyes, following Ben anyway.

There was a bounce to his step as Callum walked on, the court fading away behind them, satisfied at annoying Ben again.

They were silent for a few minutes before an explosion sounded nearby, then another.

“What is that awful noise?” Callum frowned.

The Prince led him through a set of doors, and he pointed up as they entered into a garden.

“The clock tower, rings every hour. You can’t hear it from our side of the castle in your room.” he said, his eyes shining with amusement at Callum’s confusion, as the clock finished its war cry. He’d never heard bells like that.

From the garden sprouted a tower made of inky black stone. Two gargoyles, wings spread for flight, perched on each of the four clock faces, soundlessly roaring at those beneath. “What a horrible thing,” Callum whispered. The numbers were like war paint on the white face of the clock, the hands like swords as they slashed across the pearly surface.

“As a child, I wouldn’t go near it,” Ben admitted. “It always creeped me out.”

“Don’t tell me you actually want this around?”

“Why would I build such a hideous thing?” Ben smiled, the smallest smile from Callum too. “I was only a child anyway, think I was little too young to be building giant clock towers. Come on.” he said, turning. “Let’s go.”

Callum examined the clock for a second more. The thick, clawed finger of a gargoyle pointed at him. He could have sworn that its jaws had widened, like it was watching him.

He made to follow Ben, relishing in every sigh and eye roll from him, every time Callum asked what something was or where something was.

They continued past the kitchen quarters, which were a mess of shouting, clouds of flour, and surging fires.

Once beyond that, they entered a long hallway, empty and silent save for their footsteps.

Callum suddenly halted. “What,” he breathed, “is that?” He pointed at the twenty-foot oak doors, his eyes widening at the dragons that grew out of either side of the stone wall. Four-legged dragons —like those on the royal seal.

“The library.” The two words were like a shot of lightning.

“The...” He looked at the claw-shaped iron handles. “Can we—may we go in?”

Ben shrugged, opening the doors reluctantly, the strong muscles of his back shifting as he pushed hard against the worn oak.

Compared to the sunlit hallway, the interior that stretched beyond them seemed formidably dark, but as he stepped inside, candelabras came into view, along with black-and-white marble floors, large mahogany tables with red velvet chairs, a slumbering fire, bridges, ladders, railings, and then books—books and books and books.

He’d entered a city made entirely of leather and paper. Callum put a hand against his heart. Escape routes be damned. “I’ve never seen—how many volumes are there?”

Ben shrugged. “The last time anyone bothered to count, it was a million. But that was two hundred years ago. I’d say maybe more than that, especially given the legends that a second library lies deep beneath, in tunnels.”

“Over a million? A million books?” His heart leapt and danced, and he cracked a smile. “I’d die before I even got through half of that!”

“You like to read?” Ben frowned.

Callum raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you?” Not waiting for an answer, he moved farther into the library, the train of his cloak sweeping across the floor.

“Thought you were more of a stalking people out and killing them type. Not reading.”

Callum ignored him and neared a shelf and looked at the titles. He recognised none of them.

Grinning, he whirled and moved through the main floor, running a hand across the dusty books.

“I didn’t know assassins liked to read,” Ben called, letting him wander from him a fair way.

“I didn’t just steal gold and other expensive stuff you know?” Callum grinned. If he were to die now, it would be in complete bliss. He used to read stories when he was little to escape from his father for a small while. It was like he’d left this world and entered another.

“Your telling me you actually stole books?”

“Only so I could teach myself about the forest.” He said instead, not wanting to tell him the full story. “I could sort myself out if I hurt myself or got ill. I used to teach myself from books, there’s so much out in the forest.”

“So you know medicinal stuff too?”

Callum nodded, half listening. “Very impressive.” He smiled. Ben looked at Callum, feeling a little guilty at taking Callum away from his home. He thrived in the forest and could probably name and use every plant and herb in the forest.

A dead, empty space opened inside him, remembering why he was here. Needing to change the subject, he asked, “Why are none of your people here?”

“Guards are of no use in a library.” Ben leaned against a table, a hand still on his sword. At least one of them remembered that they were alone together in the library.

“More for me to read, then. I can always read up on stuff before I get to go home. I’ve probably forgotten a fair bit.”

“Read? These belong to the king.”

“It’s a library, isn’t it?” Callum frowned.

“It’s the king’s property, and you aren’t of noble blood. You need permission from either him or me.”

“I highly doubt neither of you would notice the loss of a few books.”

“Tough.”

Callum glared at Ben again, knowing he was just being awkward.

“Selfish too. I’ll add that to my list of really bad things about you, shall I?”

Ben sighed. “It’s late. I’m hungry. Come on, I’ll take you back to your room.”

Callum groaned, marching past Ben. “It’s true! Your actually worse than your father!” He cried, striding off.

~*~

After a solitary supper, over which he contemplated all of his planned escape routes and how he might make more weapons for himself, Callum paced through his rooms.

He had seen none of his other competitors. At lest if he’d seen them, he could weigh them up, work out his tactics.

Callum slumped into a chair. He was tired, but the sun had barely set. Callum groaned tipping his head back, bored out of his brain. There a millisecond where he wouldn’t care if he was back in Bycrest, instead of sitting here doing nothing. It soon vanished, sighing to himself, knowing he was getting it much better in these rooms.

An idea flashed, and he jumped to his feet, only to sit at the desk and grab a piece of parchment.

If Ben insisted on protocol, then he’d give it to him in abundance.

He dipped the glass pen in a pot of ink and held it over the paper.

It felt odd holding a pen tracing the letters on a spare piece of paper. It was impossible that he’d forgotten how to write. He’d spent a year in the prisons and before that he’d never had anyone to write to. He probably hadn’t written anything for years. His fingers moved awkwardly as the pen touched the paper, but he carefully wrote his name, then the alphabet, three times. The letters were uneven, but he could do it.

Callum pulled out another piece of paper and began to write.

Your Highness—

Seeing as you insist that I ask your permission, it has come to my attention that your library isn’t a library, but rather a personal collection for only you and your esteemed father to enjoy. As many of your million books seem to be present and underused, I must beg you to grant me permission to borrow a few so that they might receive the attention they deserve. Since I am deprived of company and entertainment, thank you for that, this act of kindness is the least someone of your importance could allow to bestow upon a lowly, miserable wretch such as I. I hope this was royal enough for your satisfaction.

Yours most truly,  
Callum Highway

Callum beamed at his note and handed it to the nicest-looking servant he could find, that passed by his door, the two guards glaring at him for even opening his door.

He gave specific instructions to give it immediately to the Royal High Prince.

“Oh, stop looking at me like that. We all know I could kill you in a heartbeat if I wanted.” Callum smiled, shutting the door again.

When the woman returned half an hour later with a stack of books piled in her arms, Callum laughed at him for replying so quickly.

“I was told by the Prince to deliver these to you, no detours just straight to you.”

“Thank you.” He smiled, watching her leave.

Callum smiled to himself as he swiped the note that crowned the column of leather, throwing them onto his bed.

My Most True Assassin,

Enclosed are two books from my personal library that I have recently read and enjoyed immensely. And another for your pleasure. You are, of course, free to read as many of the books in the castle library as you wish, but I command you to read these first so that we might discuss them. I promise they are not dull, for I am not one inclined to sit through pages of nonsense and bloated speech, though perhaps you enjoy works and authors who think very highly of themselves. I hope your not too bored in your room and you must promise me to tell me or even teach me ‘the ways of the forest’. Oh and do write to me again.

Most affectionately,  
Ben Mitchell

Callum laughed again as he fell onto the bed on his back, looking at his writing. It looked like he’d spent hours on it not the short time it took him to reply, delicate long strokes all seemingly perfect.

He was surprised he’d actually addressed himself by his name instead of his status.

Sometimes he seemed just him, from what Linda told him, he seemed normal when he was taking Callum around the castle. And other times Callum noticed his father in him, cold and heartless like when he tried to walk away.

Callum rolled his eyes, looking back at ‘my most true assassin’. Nothing like trying to keep him sweet.

He smiled to himself at Ben giving him a book about all the medicinal things you could find in the forest and how to use them.

Choosing the book that seemed the most interesting, Callum flipped onto his stomach and began to read.

~*~

Callum awoke the next morning to yet another wretched booming of a different clock tower. At least it was slightly quietly and less eerie from the other. Half-asleep, he counted the chimes. Noon.

Callum frowned to himself, sitting up. Why hadn’t anyone come to collect him? And, more importantly, what about the tournament? Wasn’t it supposed to have started today?

He leapt from bed and stalked through his chambers, half expecting to find Ben sitting in a chair, a hand upon his sword. He wasn’t there.

He popped his head into the hallway, rolling his eyes as the four guards only reached for their weapons.

Callum paced onto the balcony, the crossbows of five guards beneath clicking into position, sighing to himself as he surveyed the autumn day.

The trees in the garden were gold and brown, half of the leaves already dead on the earth. Yet the day was so warm it could have passed for summer.

Callum took a seat on the rail, and waved at the guards with their crossbows aimed at him, grinning to himself. Out across Walford, he could make out the sails of ships, and the wagons and people streaming through the streets. The green roofs of the city glowed emerald in the sun.

Callum looked again at the five guards beneath the balcony. They stared right back at him and when they slowly lowered their crossbows, Callum nodded, satisfied. He could knock them senseless with a few heavy books.

A sound flitted through the garden, and some of the guards glanced toward the source. Three women appeared from around a nearby hedge, clustered in conversation.

Most of the talk Callum had overheard yesterday was immensely dull, and he didn’t expect much as the women neared. They wore fine dresses, though the one in the middle—the raven-haired one—wore the finest. The red skirts were the size of a tent, and her bodice was so tightly bound that Callum wondered if she would faint from being unable to breathe.

The other women were blondes dressed in pale blue, their matching gowns suggesting their rank as ladies-in- waiting.

Callum backed away from the ledge as they stopped at the nearby fountain. From his place at the back of the balcony, Callum could still see as the woman in red brushed a hand down the front of her skirts. “I should have worn my white dress,” she said loudly enough for everyone in Walford to hear. “Ben likes white.” She adjusted a pleat in her skirt. “But I’ll gather that everyone’s wearing white.”

“He isn’t interested in women. I’ve already said this.” Another said.

“Shall we go change, milady?” asked one of the blondes.

“No,” snapped the woman. “This dress is fine. Old and shabby as it is.”

“But—” said the other blonde, then stopped as her mistress’s head whipped around.

Callum approached the rail again and peered over. The dress hardly looked old, maybe worn once?

“It won’t take long for Ben to ask me for a private audience.”

“I’ve literally just said, you could wear nothing at all and he still wouldn’t be interested?”

Callum now leaned over the edge of the balcony. The guards watched the three girls. “Though I worry how much Hardcastle’s courting will interfere; but I do wonder who the man he has chosen for the tournament. I wonder...”

“Keanu, milady?”

“No, the man the Prince brought into Walford. I heard he traveled all over to find him, and that he rode into the city on one of his horses. I’ve heard nothing else about him. Not even his name.”

The two women lagged behind their mistress and exchanged exasperated looks that informed the assassin this conversation had been held many times before.

“I don’t need to worry,” the woman mused. “He’s got a daughter, he must have a thing with the ladies. Besides his slave has got nothing compared to what I have. The Prince wouldn’t look twice at him.”

His what? The ladies in waiting stopped beneath the balcony, batting their eyelashes at the guards. “I need my pipe,” the woman murmured, rubbing her temples. “I feel a headache coming on.”

Callum rolled his eyes, the woman clearly lazy. “Regardless,” the woman continued, striding away, “I’ve heard that he’s an assassin. I shall have to watch my back. I might even have to —”

The women screamed, the guards whirled with their crossbows pointed, as Callum retreated. The flowerpot had missed. This time. It was the only thing he had to hand and anything to shut them up.

The woman cursed so colourfully that Callum clamped a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing.

The servants cooed over the woman, wiping mud from the woman’s skirts and suede shoes.

“Be quiet!” the woman hissed. The guards, wisely, didn’t let their amusement show. “Be quiet and let’s go!”

The women hurried off as Callum strode into his chambers and called for Linda to dress him in the finest clothing she could find.


	9. Chapter 9

Callum stood before the rosewood mirror, smiling to himself. He was getting used to wearing these silly clothes. Even if it did make him look ridiculous. 

He ran a hand down the lapels of his pure white jacket, gold sweeping the neckline. 

A red strip crossed from his waist, and clear blue beads were embroidered on the wrists of the jacket. 

Tucked inside his jacket, when Linda was occupied, was the small makeshift dagger he made, just incase.

He didn’t know what he planned to do now that he was dressed, especially if he’d probably have to change before the tournament started. 

Skirts rustled from the doorway, and Callum looked in the reflection to see Linda enter behind him.

“It’s such a pity you are who you are,” Linda said, turning Callum to face her. 

“You mean an assassin and a thief?” Callum raised an eye. 

“You wear the royal attire well.” Linda nodded.

“Yeah, well I was just about to demand to be let out of this room. I’ll die of boredom if nothing else. It’s lucky you came or I would probably have killed those guards for my troubles of getting out.”

Linda tutted at him, waiting for Callum to finish. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you managed to catch the eye of some lord. Maybe even His Highness, if you were charming enough.” She adjusted the folds of Callum’s jacket again before kneeling down to straighten the assassin’s trousers. 

“I didn’t come here to impress Ben.” Callum huffed. 

“White is a favourite colour of the Prince.” She smiled. 

“I don’t care if he likes white or black. Makes no difference to me. I’m just here to do his dirty work.”

“I wouldn’t call it dirty work. More helping?”

“Why do you care for him so much? He’s no different from me? He kills when he pleases, takes what he wants. Destroys whoever he likes. He’s worse than his father.”

“Because you don’t know the Prince. If he’s not in the stables looking after Apollo, instead of getting the stable hands to do it, he’s in the kitchen or helping us to sort a few errands. He isn’t all bad, trust me.”

“Maybe not, but I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“I’m sure you will.”

“I overheard a girl saying she was worried I’d get in the way of her trying to be with him. I thought they knew he doesn’t want that?”

“Yes well, women still follow him around.” She smiled. “His father has tried before to get him to think about finding a queen to be by his side when he takes over. I don’t think the King rather understands the Princes wishes.”

“If he doesn’t want a lady, then why can’t he be with who he wants?”

“Anyone would think your sticking up for him.” She teased. 

“No? I’m just saying, I’d happily kill someone who tried to force me to be with a woman against my wishes.”

“You’d happily kill anyone.” She smiled. 

“I haven’t killed you?” Callum grinned. 

“Should I be honoured?”

“Yeah, well, your not so bad.” He smiled. “You treat me like I’m normal not a slave.”

“Good to know I’m safe.” She smiled. 

“So your saying, that woman has no chance.” Callum smirked, satisfied at proving her wrong, calling him the Prince’s slave. Who did she think she was? 

“I highly doubt it. Let them gossip, you should be flattered that you’re attractive enough to be considered her rival.”

“I’d rather not be seen that way at all.” Callum scoffed. “I don’t want to see him or spend any more time than I possibly have to with him.” He frowned. 

“Better then as his assassin.” 

“Precisely.” Callum smiled. 

“You look much better when you smile. Far better than that frown you always have.”

“Maybe I’ll be happy when I get to go home.” Callum nodded, making to sit down on a stool. 

“Ah!” Linda said, and Callum froze, standing upright. “You’ll wrinkle the fabric in your shirt.”

“But my feet hurt in these horrible shoes.” He frowned pitifully. “You can’t intend for me to stand all day? Even through my meals?”

“Only until someone tells me how lovely you look.”

“I’ll make sure to tell them it was you.” He smiled. 

Callum reached to run a hand through his hair, Linda batting his hand away. “You’ll ruin your hair.” She scolded. 

The doors to Callum’s rooms, slammed open, followed by an already familiar snarling and stomping about. 

He watched in the mirror as Jay appeared in the doorway, panting slightly. Linda curtsied to the Captain of the Guard. 

“You,” he began, then stopped as Callum faced him. “What are you wearing??” He muttered, shaking his head and remembering again. “Upstairs. Now.”

“Where are we going?”

“Oh, don’t start at me.” He grabbed him by the arm, guiding him out of the room.

“Get off me!” Callum cried, wrenching his arm back. 

“Captain Brown!” Linda scolded. “At least let the poor man walk himself, you’ll ruin his shirt.”

“We haven’t got time.” He hurried. 

Callum smiled at the guards outside his door, and his smile burst into a grin at their exchanged approving glances. At least they couldn’t keep him in his room now with Jay taking him somewhere. 

The captain’s grip tightened on his arm again until it hurt. “Hurry,” he said. “We can’t be late.”

“Perhaps if you’d given me earlier warning, I’d have dressed into something more appropriate, not this stupid clothing and you wouldn’t have to drag me!” 

They hurried up a long staircase, Jay letting him go, as Callum followed after him. 

“My mind was elsewhere; you were fortunate to be dressed, though I wish you’d worn something... less?”

“I was just trying stuff on! You should have given me warning before humiliating myself!”

“You’ll just have to hope the king doesn’t think your trying to out-dress him.” Jay sighed. 

“The king?” He was thankful that he hadn’t yet eaten, nausea washing over him. 

“Yes, the king. Did you think you wouldn’t see him? The High Prince told you the tournament was to start today—this meeting will mark the official beginning. The real work begins tomorrow.”

He became heavy and forgot all about his aching feet in the shoes. 

In the garden, the clock tower began chiming the hour. They reached the top of the staircase and rushed down a long hallway. 

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Because he just decided to see you now. He’d originally said this evening, Ben was going to come and tell you. Hopefully, the other Champions will be later than us.”

Callum looked at Jay, still hurrying along, forgetting to address him as the Prince. He was clearly wary of the king as much as anyone else, not wanting to anger him. 

He felt like fainting. The king.

“When you enter,” he said over his shoulder, “stop where I stop. Bow—low. When you raise your head, keep it high and stand straight. Don’t look the king in the eye, don’t answer anything without ‘Your Majesty’ attached, and do not, under any circumstances, talk back. He’ll have you hanged if you don’t please him.”

“Why are helping me? I thought you’d love it if the king hated me or I did something wrong.”

“Because I don’t wish anyone to have to go through his anger. I’m not all bad, Callum. I do my job and respect the king. After that? I’m either with Ben or my horse.”

He had a terrible headache around his temples. 

Jay stopped before rounding a corner. “You’re pale.”

Callum difficulty focusing on his face as he breathed in and out, in and out. He hated the king. He hated everything he’d done to him, hated him for throwing him in that prison, hated him for taking him away from everything he knew. From his home.

The days surrounding his capture and sentencing had been like a real nightmare, but he could perfectly visualise his trial—the dark wood of the walls, the smoothness of the chair beneath him, the way his injuries still ached from the capture, and the terrible silence that had overtaken his body and soul. The king sat in front of him. 

It was enough to make him reckless, to wish for any punishment that would take him far from him—even a quick death right now. 

“Callum.” Callum blinked, looking at Jay, his face softened. “He’s just a man. But a man you should treat with the respect his rank demands.” 

He began walking with Callum again, slower. “This meeting is only to remind you and the other Champions of why you’re here, and what you’re to do, and what you stand to gain. You’re not on trial. You will not be tested today.” 

They entered a long hallway, and he spied four guards posted before large doors at the other end. 

“Callum, just please don’t talk back to him. He won’t tolerate it like Ben. Ben isn’t like his father.”

“You think?” Callum scoffed. 

“I know him. But you need to go in there. Just be careful what you say and watch your mouth.” He nodded. 

He stopped a few feet from the guards, nodding to the door. 

“Ready?”

No. His head was screaming at him to turn around and escape now.

“Yes.” He replied. 

Callum raised his chin as they entered the crowded room.


	10. Chapter 10

Callum saw the floor first. Red marble, its white veins illuminated in the light of the sun, which slowly vanished as the doors groaned shut. Chandeliers and torches hung all around. His eyes darted from one side of the large, crowded chamber to the next. There were no windows, just a wall of glass looking out into nothing but sky. No escape, save for the door behind him.

To his left, a fireplace occupied most of the wall, and as Jay led him farther into the room, Callum tried not to stare at the thing. It was monstrous, shaped like a roaring, fanged mouth, a blazing fire burning within. There was something greenish about the flame, something that made his spine straighten.

The Captain stopped in the open space before the throne, and Callum halted with him. Jay didn’t seem to notice their ominous surroundings, or if he did, he hid it far better. 

Callum pulled his gaze forward, taking in the crowd that filled the room. Stiffly, knowing that many eyes were upon him, copying Jay, Callum dropped into a low bow.

He found his legs weak when Jay put a hand on his back letting him know to rise. 

He led Callum from the center of the room, where they took up a spot beside Ben. 

He wore a red-and-gold jacket, his dark hair brushed and shining. 

An expression of surprise crossed his face when he beheld Callum in his finery, offering him a small smile but it quickly melted away as he looked toward his father. 

Callum might have returned it, had he not been focusing so much on keeping his hands from shaking. 

He was surprised Ben wasn’t sitting next to his father and not with himself. Then realised Ben was representing him, so was required to sit next to him, instead of with his father. 

The king spoke at last. “Now that you’ve all finally bothered to arrive, perhaps we can begin.”

It was the voice he had heard before, deep and raspy. It made him feel the astonishing cold of a winter long since past. 

Callum’s eyes only dared to venture as far as his chest. It was broad, not entirely with muscle, and seemed tightly restrained within a crimson and black tunic. A cape of white fur hung from his shoulders, and a sword was sheathed at his side. Atop its hilt perched a lion, open-mouthed and screaming. None that came before that broad blade lived to see another day. He knew that sword.

“You have all been retrieved from across the land for the purpose of serving your country.”

It was easy enough to tell the noble people from his competitors. Old and wrinkled, each nobleman wore fine clothes and decorative swords. Beside each of them stood a man—some tall and slender, some burly, some average. 

Twenty men stood between Callum and freedom. 

Most of them had enough bulk to warrant a double take, but when he scanned their faces—often scarred, there was no spark behind their eyes, no shining kernel of cleverness. 

They’d been picked for muscles, not brains. He understood why Ben had travelled such a long way for him now. 

A few of them met Callum’s gaze, and he stared right back, wondering if they thought he was a competitor or just part of the court, the way he was dressed. 

Callum gritted his teeth. The shirt and jacket had been a mistake. Why had Ben or Jay not told him about the meeting yesterday?

A young man stared at him, and he willed his face into neutrality while his gray eyes took Callum in. He was tall and lean, but not gangly, and he inclined his head to Callum. 

Callum studied him for a moment longer, from the way he balanced his weight to his left, he could tell which hand he used for his weapon the most. He was stood beside Duke Hardcastle, crafted of muscle and steel—and took pains to display it with his sleeveless armor. The man’s arms looked capable of crushing a horse’s skull. There was something nasty about his demeanor, about his obsidian eyes as they shifted and met his own.

The king spoke. “You are each competing for the title of being my and my sons Champion—my right-hand sword in a world brimming with enemies.”

Could Callum actually stomach working for him? For how many years. Callum swallowed. He had to. He had no other choice.

“Over the next thirteen weeks, you shall each dwell and compete in my home. You will train every day, by your sponsor and be tested once a week—a test during which one of you will be eliminated.” 

Callum did the calculations. There were twenty of them—and only thirteen weeks. 

As if sensing his thoughts, the king said, “These tests will not be easy, nor will your training. Some of you might die in the process. We will add additional elimination tests as we see fit. And if you fall behind, if you fail, if you displease me, you will be packed off to whatever dark hole you came from. The week after Christmas, the four remaining Champions will face each other in a duel to win the title. Until then-“ he waved a huge, scarred hand to encompass the room— “Any wrongdoing on your part, and I’ll stake you to the front gates.”

By accident, Callum’s gaze slipped onto the king’s face, and he found his dark eyes staring into his own. 

The king smirked.

Murderer.

He should be hanging from the gallows. He had killed many more than Callum had — people undeserving and defenseless. He’d destroyed cultures, destroyed invaluable knowledge, destroyed so much of what had once been bright and good. His people should revolt. Walford should revolt—the way those few rebels had dared to do. 

Callum struggled to maintain his gaze. He couldn’t retreat.

“Is that understood?” the king asked, still staring at him.

His head was heavy as he nodded. 

He had only until Christmas to beat them all. One test a week—perhaps more.

“Speak!” the king bellowed to the room, and he tried not to flinch. “Are you not grateful for this opportunity? Do you not wish to give me your thanks and allegiance?”

Ben gave Callum the slightest kick, encouraging him to answer him. 

Callum bowed his head and stared at his feet. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I am most appreciative,” He murmured, the sound blending in with the words of the other Champions.

The king put a hand upon his hilt. “This should be an interesting thirteen weeks.” He could feel Phil’s attention still upon Callum’s face. “Prove trustworthy, become our Champion, and wealth and glory will be yours eternal.”

Only thirteen weeks to win his freedom.

“I am to depart next week for my own purposes. I will not return until Christmas. But don’t think I won’t be able to give the command to execute any of you, should I hear word of any trouble, or accidents.” 

The Champions nodded once more.

“If we’re finished, I’m afraid I must take my leave,” interrupted Ben said from beside him, and Callum’s head snapped up at the sound of his voice—and his impertinence at interrupting his father. 

Ben bowed low to his father, nodded to the mute councillors and took his leave. 

The king waved his son away, not even bothering to look at him. 

“If there are no questions,” the king said to the Champions and their sponsors in a tone that suggested that asking questions would only guarantee a trip to the gallows, “then you have my leave. Do not forget that you are here to honour me— and my empire. Be gone, all of you.”

Callum and Jay didn’t speak as they strode down the hallway, quickly moving from the throng of competitors and their sponsors, who lingered to speak with one another—and size each other up. 

With every step away from the king, steadying warmth returned. 

It wasn’t until they rounded a corner that Jay let out a deep breath. 

“Well, you managed to keep your mouth shut—for once,” he said.

“But how convincing he was in his nodding and bowing!” said a cheerful voice. It was Ben, leaning against a wall, grinning at them both. 

“What are you doing?” Jay asked.

Ben pushed off the wall. “Why, waiting for you, of course.”

“We’re to dine this evening,” Jay said.

“Oh stop being like that, Jay. My father isn’t here anymore, you aren’t working anymore. 

“Right well, I thought you said you had to be somewhere?” Jay frowned. 

“I’m right here!” Ben grinned. “I’m with my Champion,” He said with a roguish wink.

Remembering how he smiled at everyone like that, Callum refused to look at him. 

The Prince took up a place safely beside Jay as they walked on. 

“I apologize for my father’s gruffness.” Ben tried. 

Callum stared down the hall, at the servants who bowed to Ben, ignoring them both.

“By gods!” Ben laughed. “Your trained already!” He nudged Jay with his elbow. “From the way you are blatantly ignoring me, I’d say you could pass for my sister! Well course if you were a woman, but-“ 

Ben trailed off realising how stupid he sounded. 

“Though you don’t really look like each other—it would be hard to pass off someone so pretty as you for my sister Louise.”

“Ben?” Jay hissed. 

Callum was unable to keep a hint of a smile from his lips. Both him and the Prince had grown up under strict, unforgiving fathers. 

Callum had never replaced the father he’d lost, nor had he ever tried to. Why had the King of Walford let his son become anything but an identical copy of himself?

“There!” Ben said. “A reaction—thank the gods I’ve amused you. Do you find my home to your liking?” He said instead. 

“It’s very fine indeed.” Callum said dully.

“ ‘Very fine indeed’? Maybe I should move my Champion to even larger chambers.”

“If it pleases you. You’ll do what you like anyway.”

Ben chuckled. “I’m glad to find that seeing your competition hasn’t damaged that swagger of yours.”

“Haven’t you got somewhere elsewhere to be?” He snapped. 

“Oh come on, you can’t be like this forever? Besides I gotta see your training first. See how you work. What’d you make of Keanu?”

He knew whom he meant. The man who seemed to be his most challenging competitor. 

“Perhaps you should start feeding me whatever Hardcastle is giving him.” 

When Ben continued staring at him blankly, Callum rolled his eyes. “Men of his size usually aren’t very fast, or very nimble. He could knock me out in one punch, probably, but he’d have to be swift enough to catch me.” 

Callum gave Jay a quick glance, working out whether he could do the same right now. Noticing the glance between Ben and Jay.

“Where as you?” Ben grinned. “Well, you’ve been looking better everyday.”

“What you saying?” Callum squinted. 

“Nothing. I meant because you’ve been eating. Your getting stronger by each day.”

“I’ve got to be ready.” Callum shrugged.

“Good. And what of the others? Any potential rivals? Some of the Champions have rather gruesome reputations.”

“Everyone else looks pathetic.” Callum smiled. 

The Prince’s smile grew. “I bet they won’t expect to be trounced by a beautiful guy.”

This was all a game to him, wasn’t it? He could gladly kill him right in front of Jay. Before Callum could ask, someone curtsied in the middle of their path. 

“Your Highness! What a surprise!” The voice was high, but smooth and calculated. It was the woman from the garden. She’d changed—she now wore a gown of white and gold. 

“Are we competing here?” Ben grinned nodding to them both wearing white. 

“No?” Callum huffed. “You were the one who put it in my wardrobe.”

“I’m afraid she isn’t my type.” Ben grimaced, winking at Callum. 

Callum rolled his eyes, the arrogance just flowing from him. 

And Callum was willing to bet a fortune that this was anything but a surprise —the woman had probably been waiting here for a while.

“Lady Kirsty.” Ben said tersely, his body tensing.

“Oh please, just Dotty. I’ve just come from Her Majesty’s side.” said, putting her back to Callum. 

“Your mother wishes to see you. Of course, I informed Her Majesty that you were in a meeting and could not be—”

“Lady Kirsty,” interrupted Ben, growing bored, “I’m afraid you haven’t been introduced to my friend.”

Callum glared at him for even saying that, but smiled when he could have sworn the young woman bristled. 

“Allow me to present Callum Highway. Callum, Lady Kirsty.” 

Callum gave a short nod, restraining the urge to keep walking; if he had to deal with too much courtly nonsense, he might be better off back in Bycrest.

Dotty bowed, the gold streaks in her dress glistening in the sunlight.

“Isn’t this the... thief, you’ve chosen for the tournament?” She frowned at him, studying Callum from beneath dark, shaped eyebrows. 

“Yes.” Ben sighed, leaning against the wall again, suddenly finding his nails interesting. “And do please call him by his name.”

Callum frowned at Ben, actually looking annoyed. 

“Yes well, I don’t know why you chose a criminal, you should have stuck with someone like Keanu.”

“Well why don’t you go and see him instead then?” Ben overly smiled, looking up at her. 

“Yes I might.” She huffed, Ben not paying the slightest bit of attention anymore. 

“Are you eating lunch? I’m starved.” She tried. 

He glanced at Jay, his smile fading. “I have important work to do. Like prepare a company of men for my father to bring with him on his journey.”

“And how long will you be staying with us?” She glared at Callum.

“A few years,” Ben said with a sigh waiting for her to leave. 

“Why, Your Highness! How sad! That is a very long stretch of time!” 

“Why don’t you just run along yeah? Ben isn’t going to ask but you can clearly see he’s dying of boredom here.”

Ben looked up at Callum, unable to hide his amusement. 

“You haven’t got a chance with him, love. Let’s just princesses or lady’s or whatever title you fancy people like to call yourself, isn’t his thing. So why don’t you just go and follow Keanu around like puppy if you must.”

Callum stared her down, as she spun around and rushing off the other way. 

“Erm, thank you?”

“I think that was rather amusing actually.” Jay chuckled. 

“I didn’t do it for you. If she stayed any longer, I might have killed her.” Callum sighed, walking off the other way. 

“Looks like that mouth of yours will come in handy.” Ben grinned. 

“Just go and do whatever you told her you were doing and leave me alone.”

“Where are you going?”

“To my prison room, where else? You won’t let me go anywhere else.”

“It’s not my choice, you know?” He called after him, Jay hurrying to catch up. 

“Course it is!” Callum cried, spinning around and glaring at him. “You are just an arrogant Prince who gets what he wants and cares about nothing apart from yourself! If it weren’t for you and your father I wouldn’t be here in the first place, I’d be at home where I belong! But no! I’m stuck here with you two for god knows how long and will probably end up killing you all by next week!”

Ben said nothing, squinting at Callum, like he was trying to work something out. 

“You paint me as a horrible person-“

“You are!!”

“But-“ Ben continued. “You shouldn’t always listen to stories or whatever. Thought you had a brain, work stuff out for yourself.”

“Don’t stand there and patronise me!” Callum hissed. 

“I think you need to calm down.” Jay warned. 

“I’ll do what I like! You seriously think he’s going to protect you? I could have killed you both ages ago and no one would realise until I was gone.”

“Then why haven’t you?” Ben shrugged. 

“You know why.” Callum hissed. “I need you if I’m to get out here without having to hide for the rest of my life.”

“True.” He shrugged. “I suppose I could say I’m pretty safe then?”

Callum groaned, spinning back around and marching off again. 

“You are impossible!”

“Jay can you go and get my father and his men the horses they need please?” 

Jay nodded, disappearing, leaving Ben trying to catch up with Callum. 

“How’d you know the way to your rooms already? You haven’t been here that long?”

“I’m an assassin, Ben? It’s what I do? I could probably tell you every room by now.”

“Impressive.” Ben smiled not objecting to calling him by his name instead of his title. 

Callum ignored him, still striding away from him. 

“Come on, you can’t hate me forever?”

“Yes I can!” 

“You should channel that anger, it will come in useful, I’m sure.”

“I’m angry because of you!”

“You can’t ignore me for the rest of your days, if I’m overseeing your training.”

“I think I’d rather have Jay do it.” He huffed. 

“Callum, can’t we agree to some kind of agreement here?”

Callum stopped walking, spinning around and glaring at Ben. 

“You have no idea what your family did to me.” He hissed. “I can’t work with you everyday, knowing that YOU put me in that prison! Yes it was horrible, that’s the whole point, but your sick father made sure I suffered more!”

“I’ve said I’m sorry for that. I swear I didn’t know about that.”

“Of course you didn’t?” Callum rolled his eyes. “I don’t believe a word that comes out of your mouth.”

“It’s the truth?” Ben tried, looking up at Callum. 

Callum hesitated, searching his eyes, trying to detect any lies. 

“It’s still your family? And I can’t live like that again. I will train with you or whatever you want me to do, win this stupid tournament, serve you and your father, then I’m leaving. To go wherever I please.”

Callum turned his back on him again, nearing the door to his rooms.

“You can go now, you’ve safely escorted the prisoner to his rooms.”

“I wasn’t-“

“Just go, Ben.” Callum sighed. “What?” He asked, Ben just stood there looking at him. Something smelled delicious inside his chambers, and his stomach grumbled.

Ben shook his head. “My Assassin,” he chuckled, and began walking back down the hall. “You should rest,” he called over his shoulder. “The tournament actually begins tomorrow. And even if you’re as fantastic as you claim to be, you’re going to need every moment of sleep you can get.”

“I’m not ‘yours’.” Though he rolled his eyes and was about to slam the door, Callum groaned and stopped. 

“Callum?” Ben called, turning back around and looking at Callum, his rich sapphire eyes shining. 

“Yes?” Callum sighed, refusing to look at him, at his feet instead. 

“I must say you do look rather good today,” was all Ben said. 

Callum looked up slowly in the way he left, but he’d rounded the corner, already gone.


	11. Chapter 11

Callum felt as if he’d barely closed his eyes when a hand jabbed his side. 

He groaned, wincing as the drapes were thrown back to welcome the morning sun.

“Wake up.” Not surprisingly, it was Ben.

Callum shimmied beneath the blankets, pulling them over his head, but Ben grabbed the covers and threw them to the floor. 

Callum shivered, moaning to himself. “It’s cold,” he whined holding his knees to his body. He didn’t care that he had only a few months to beat the other Champions—he needed sleep. 

It would have been nice if the Prince had considered springing him from Bycrest earlier so he could have some time to regain his strength; how long had he known about this tournament, anyway?

“Get up.” Ben ripped the pillows from beneath his head. “Now you’re wasting my time.” 

If he noticed how much skin he was showing, he didn’t react.

“What’s wrong with you today?” He huffed. 

“Nothing, I’ve just had a grilling from my father this morning, before he left, if you aren’t ready by the time he comes back, I can promise he will throw you back in Bycrest. And that’s you dead and my reputation destroyed. Now get up.”

Grumbling, Callum slithered to the edge of the bed, dangling a hand over the edge to touch the floor. 

“Fetch my slippers.” he mumbled. “The floor’s like ice.”

Ben growled, but Callum ignored him as he got to his feet. 

Callum staggered and slouched into the dining room, where an enormous breakfast lay on the table. Ben jerked his chin toward the food. “Eat up. The tournament starts in an hour.”

Whatever nerves he felt, Callum kept them hidden from Ben as he gave an exaggerated sigh and collapsed into a chair with the grace of a large beast. Callum scanned the table. Yet again, there were no knives. 

“There’s no point in giving me a fork but no knife.” Callum raised his eyes at Ben. He stabbed his fork into a piece of sausage. 

“Why’s that?”

Callum rolled his eyes, holding it out like it was obvious. “I can still use this as weapon.” He smiled sweetly. 

Ben rolled his eyes, leaning against the doorframe. 

“Are you going to stand there and stare at me all morning?” Callum sighed. “I’ll just eat slower.” He smiled. 

“No you won’t, or I’ll drag you out this room myself. Aand-“

Callum rolled his eyes, knowing he was right. 

“There it is!” Ben grinned.

“What?”

“You, eye rolling again.”

Callum glared at him for a second, but turned his attention back to his food.

From the doorway, Ben pushed off the doorframe, chucking himself down in the chair opposite Callum. 

“Why, might I ask, are you so tired?”

“I was up until four reading,” he said. 

“Ah, I was surprised when I received a letter from you.” He smiled.

“Well, I couldn’t exactly walk out my room to ask you could I? I don’t know why you didn’t just let me take some when we were in there and saved me the bother.”

Ben shrugged, smiling at Callum. 

“Why do you feel obligated to be as cruel to me as you do? Why doesn’t any of the other champions have guards?”

“You’re an assassin?” Ben raised an eyes, like it was obvious. 

“If I say I’m a mere jewel thief, will you treat me with more courtesy?”

“Because you’ve probably done that too.”

Callum said nothing, eating a croissant. 

“Thought so.” Ben smiled. 

“Oh be quiet.” Callum huffed. 

“Hurry up,” was all he said. The tournament awaited.

Suddenly not hungry, Callum pushed his plate forward, frowning at Ben nicking the rest. 

“I need to get dressed.” Callum sighed. “Unless you want to stare at me doing that too?”

“If your offering?” Ben grinned. 

“I don’t think I can survive any longer with you.” He groaned, marching off. 

“We’ll see?” Ben called after him. “Just hurry up, yeah?”

~*~

“Would you just slow down?!” Callum cried, hurrying after Ben as he rushed through the castle, still freezing with the early-morning chill. They soon entered the barracks. 

Guards in various states of armour saluted and bowed when Ben passed, ignoring them all. 

“I don’t know why it takes you so long to get changed?” Ben sighed. 

“Takes time to look this good, you know?” Callum chuckled. 

“More like trying and successfully annoying me?” 

“Well then?”

An open doorway revealed a large hall, where many of the guards were just sitting down to breakfast.

Finally, Ben stopped somewhere on the ground floor. 

Most of the twenty other Champions were already scattered throughout the room, sparring with what could only be their sponsors’ trainers. None bothered to look at Callum, too busy with their mentor. 

Callum lifted his chin and surveyed a rack of weapons. “You expect me to use these an hour after sunrise?”

Six guards appeared in the doorway behind them. “If you attempt anything foolish,” Ben said quietly, “They’ll be here.”

“I’m just a prisoner, remember?” 

“I’ve said numerous times, your not right now, but if you try anything they won’t hesitate to kill you.”

“Lovely.” Callum smiled. “Don’t think they are all necessary to protect you though?”

Callum approached the rack, smiling to himself. Foolish, foolish decision to leave all those weapons out. Swords, sword-breakers, axes, bows, pikes, hunting daggers, maces, spears, throwing knives. 

While he generally preferred the stealth of a dagger, he was familiar with every weapon here. 

Callum glanced around the sparring room and hid his grimace. So were most of the competitors, it seemed. As he inspected them, he caught a movement in the corner of his vision.

Keanu entered the hall, flanked by Danny. 

Callum squared his shoulders as Keanu strode straight toward him, his lips parting in a grin.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice raspy and deep. His dark eyes snaked along his body, assessing him, then found his face again. “I’d have thought you’d be running by now.”

Callum gave him a close-lipped smile. “The fun’s just starting, isn’t it?” 

Keanu returned his wicked grin and stalked off.

It would have been so, so easy. So easy to whirl and grab him by the neck and slam his face into the ground. Callum didn’t even realise he was trembling with rage until Ben stepped into his line of vision. “Save it for the tournament,” he said softly.

“I’m going to kill him,” Callum breathed.

“No, you’re not. If you want to shut him up, then beat him. He’s just a brute from another of my fathers army—don’t waste your strength on hating him.”

Callum rolled his eyes. “Thank you so much for interfering on my behalf.”

“You don’t need me to rescue you. You can fight your own battles. Come with me.”

“Where we going now?” Callum sighed, looking longingly at the weapons rack. 

“Send another weapon store to the main hall in the castle and make sure no one disturbs us.” Ben shot at a random guard beside them. 

“Yes, sir.” He quickly muttered, hurrying away. 

“And I don’t need any guards either. I need to do this alone.” He said to another. “Come.” He instructed to Callum. 

“Thought we were training back that way?” Callum frowned. 

“Nope. I’d rather the others not see how you are?”

“Excuse me, you know I’m good at what I do!” Callum retorted. 

Ben sighed, turning around to face Callum. “Why take offence at everything? I meant because I don’t want them learning a few tips off you.”

“Oh...” Callum whispered, looking around. 

The giant rectangular room they entered was the size of the Grand Ballroom. Lined with pillars that supported a balcony, the floor was checkered black-and-white tile, and the floor-to-ceiling glass doors that made up one entire wall were open, the satin curtains blowing in the chilly breeze that drifted in from the garden. 

“This is pointless, I know how to fight.” Callum sighed, rolling his eyes. 

“An assassin is completely different to a trained royal guard or soldier.”

“I’m not them though am I?”

“I want to know how you work. Show me.” Ben insisted, shoving a sword from the rack into his hand. 

“Show you what?” Callum frowned.

“How you work??”

“I can’t work in these conditions.” Callum groaned, growing bored. 

“Conditions?!” Ben laughed. 

Callum stopped, looking at Ben for a while. “What?”

“Nothing. This is basically the best room in the castle for training, instead of with the others and your complaining about the conditions?” He smiled. 

“You already know how I work. I need a knife or a dagger not this atrocious sword? And it’s too light in here with that way too big chandelier. Stealth is one of my main skills and I can’t remain hidden or out of sight in a room lit so bright?”

“Well there you go. You aren’t trained.” Ben simply said. “You will have ‘conditions’ like these during the tournament, so you need to be prepared. And you will be using swords as well your own choice of weapons.”

“Give me a correctly weighted bow and an arrow and I can take down a stag from a mile away.”

“Just one arrow? Impressive.” Ben smiled. “I take it you stole these arrows?”

“No, I made them myself?” Callum glared. 

Ben hummed in response. “Full of surprises aren’t you?”

“You don’t know me.”

“Maybe not. But it’s my job to ensure your ready for this tournament. So I need to know how you work. Now stop sitting around and show me.”

“Is that an order?” Callum huffed. 

“Please.” Ben sighed. 

Callum looked at Ben, rolling his eyes and dragging himself off the chair. “Seeing as you asked nicely.”

“How very kind of you?” Ben shook his head at him, standing in front of Callum. “Disarm me.” He said simply. 

“I can’t use this??” Callum grinned, holding the sword out for Ben. 

Ben groaned, pointing with his sword to the weapons rack. “Pick one.” 

His eyes shone with the challenge as Callum untied his cloak and tossed it behind him. “Let’s see if you can actually back up your swaggering.”

He’d shut Keanu up—in an unmarked grave for all eternity. But for now... Now, he’d make Ben eat his words.

All the weapons were finely made, and glistened in the sunlight. 

Callum eliminated his options one by one, seeing each weapon for what sort of damage he might do. 

His heart beat rapidly as he ran a finger across the blades and handles of each. He found himself torn between the hunting daggers and a lovely knife with an good grip handle. He could cut out his heart from a safe distance with that.

“For saying you ‘know how to fight with anything’, your doing a pretty poor job.”

Callum rolled his eyes again, weighing a sword up in his hand. “It’s too heavy.”

“Excuses.” Ben tutted. 

“You work with it!” Callum retorted. “I know what I’m talking about. They might not be daggers but I need one to fit me at least.”

“Are we going to actually get anything done today?”

“Not until I get given decent weapons.”

“I’m supposed to be in charge here?” 

“What can I say I don’t like being told what to do.” Callum flashed a smile, looking back over the weapon rack. He picked up the sleek dagger, weighing it up running his finger lightly against the blade. “Hey!” He frowned, when Ben took it from his hand and put it back. 

“Sword.” He insisted. “Pick one. And hurry up.”

“Whatever.” Callum muttered, gazing at the knife. 

Ben leant against the wall watching Callum picking up each sword up, weighing them in his hand and swinging them around a bit, shaking his head every so often. ‘Too heavy, too light, not even weight in the handle.’ He kept muttering. 

“How’d you pick one?” Callum asked. 

“Mine was specifically made for me.” Ben took it out, holding it out. “Careful.” He nodded. 

Callum took it gently, looking at the diamonds in the top of the handle, delicate engravings across the blade. 

“It’s beautiful.” Callum whispered. 

Ben smiled at him, holding it with such lightness. “Yeah, it is...” 

Callum held it, swinging it around slowly. “I like it.”

“You do?”

“ I wasn’t-“ Callum started. 

“Have it.”

“I can’t?” 

“I’ll have a new one made straight away anyway if I want it. So you can keep it. Well not literally, I meant I’ll keep it for training.”

“Oh thanks.” Callum mumbled. “Really.” 

“It’s just a sword.” Ben shrugged. “Anything to get you to do some work today.” He smiled. 

Ben grabbed another random sword from the side, looking at Callum still staring at the engravings. 

The sword shone in his hands. It was a good blade—strong, smooth, light. They wouldn’t let him have a butter knife on his table, but Ben had given him this? 

Why not wear him down a bit?

Ben tossed his cape on top of Callum’s, his toned body flexing through the dark threads of his shirt. He drew his sword. 

“Come on!” He moved into a defensive position, and Callum looked at him dully.

“Aren’t you first going to show me the basics?” Callum smiled, the sword dangling from one hand. 

He rubbed the hilt, his fingers contracting on the cool surface. “I was in Bycrest for a year, you realise. I could have easily forgotten.”

“From the amount of killing that went on in your section of the prisons, I highly doubt you’ve forgotten a thing.”

“Suppose,” He said, his smile growing feral, closing his eyes and remembering the kills. “Think I actually miss killing someone.”

With a growl, Ben lunged.

But Callum had been waiting for some time now, and his eyes flew open as soon as he heard his boots scrape against the ground. 

With a simple turn of his arm he brought the sword into blocking position, his legs bracing for the impact as steel struck steel. 

The noise was strange, somehow more painful than receiving the blow, but Callum thought little of it when Ben charged again and Callum met his weapon, parrying with ease. 

“This is too easy.” Callum smiled. 

His arms ached as they were shaken from their slumber, but he continued to deflect and parry.

Swordplay was like dancing—certain steps must be followed or else it would fall apart. Once Callum heard the beat, it all came rushing back. 

The other competitors in his head faded away into shadows and sunlight.

“Good,” Ben said through his teeth, blocking Callum’s thrust as he forced him to take a defensive stance. 

Callum thighs burned, watching Ben work himself. 

“Very good,” he breathed. 

He was pretty good himself—better than good, actually. Not that he’d tell Ben that.

With a clang, the two swords met, and they pressed each other’s blades. 

Ben was strong, and Callum grunted at the force required to hold his sword against his. But, strong as he might be, he wasn’t as quick.

Callum withdrew, his feet floating across the floor with birdlike grace. 

Caught off-guard, Ben only had time to deflect, his parry lost in his size.

Callum surged forward, his arm coming down again and again, twisting and turning, loving the smooth ache within his shoulder as the blade slammed against his. 

He was moving fast- fast like a snake in the desert, fast like water down the side of a mountain.

Ben kept up, and Callum allowed him to advance before reclaiming the position. 

He tried to catch Callum unawares with a blow to the face, but his anger awoke as his elbow snapped up and deflected, slamming into his fist and forcing it down.

“Something to remember when fighting me, Highway,” he panted. 

The sun caught in his blue eyes.

“Hmm?” Callum grunted, lunging to deflect his newest attack.

“I don’t lose.” He grinned at Callum , and before he could comprehend the words, something cut into his feet and he had the sickening feeling of falling. 

Callum gasped as his spine collided with marble, his own sword flying from his hand. Ben pointed his blade at his heart. “I win,” he breathed.

Callum pushed himself onto his elbows. “You had to resort to tripping me. That’s hardly winning at all.”

“I’m not the one with the sword at my heart.”

“You have the skills,” Ben said, “but some of your moves are still undisciplined.”

Callum glared up into Ben’s face. “That’s never stopped me from killing before,” He hissed. 

Ben chuckled at his agitation and pointed his sword at the rack, grabbing his hand and pulling him up.

“You can pick whichever you like if you want. Go again.”

“How are you still doing that without your own sword?” 

“You learn to adapt to things.” Ben shrugged. “So it’s not the sword, you keep complaining about.” Ben smiled. 

“I know how to fight.” Callum insisted. 

“Your way, this is my way. Stand there.” 

Callum looked confused as Ben took his shoulders, guiding him back to the middle of the room. They’d drifted after the sparring. 

“Point it at me.” 

“What like this?” Callum held it up limply, Ben smiling at him. 

“With more meaning.” 

Callum wrapped his hand around the handle, aiming it at Ben with more intent. 

“Good.” Was all he offered. 

“Distract, grab the wrist and twist.”

“What?” Callum frowned, loosening to slightly. 

Callum yelped as Ben clutched his wrist, twisting his hand to the side and keeping it there, forcing him to drop his sword. 

“Distract, wrist, twist.” Ben smiled. “To disarm someone.”

“Oh...” 

“You gotta be aware at all times, never let your guard down. Go again. I’m not going to go easy on you. You are here to train hard.”

Callum nodded, looking more determined. 

“Again.” Ben repeated. “Your turn now, I’m in front of you, your weaponless, what do you do?”

“Distract-“

“Don’t tell me. Do it.” Ben told him holding his sword at Callum. 

Callum looked at him, taking his usual stance, it was like walking for him, many years of training. 

“How long you been using a sword then?” 

“Since I could walk.” Ben smiled. “I used to be terrible when I was little though. Never wanted to train, always trying to explore the castle. There was always something new to find everyday.” He smiled fondly. “I was either hiding from my father or with the horses or dogs-“

Callum took the opportunity, wrapping his hand around Ben’s wrist tipping him to the side, making him drop the sword onto the floor with a loud clatter. 

Ben looked up at Callum, searching his eyes for a second, neither speaking, bent over, Callum holding him up. 

He still had some of his old strength, strong already, able to hold Ben with one hand pressed against his back. Even if his wasn’t to his full strength yet. 

“Your a quick learner.” Ben smiled taking a hold of Callum’s hand as he pulled him back up. 

“Distract?” Callum shrugged. 

“Yes, very good.” Ben nodded, realising he was still holding Callum’s hand taking it back slowly. “I wasn’t on my guard. You used it. Your good at this. Pick another—something different. Make it interesting, too. Something that will make me sweat.”

“You’ll be sweating when I skin you alive.” Callum muttered, picking up the dagger again. 

“That’s the spirit.”

Callum practically threw Ben’s sword onto the ground, and drew the hunting knives without hesitation.

His dear old friends.

A wicked smile spread across his face as he faced Ben again.


	12. Chapter 12

“We’ll go back to the barracks, we don’t want to be accused of cheating.”

“How is training, cheating??”

“You know what I mean, just come on.” Ben insisted, taking his sword back from Callum and sheathing it. 

“I was just getting started.” He huffed. 

“We can carry on when we get back.”

Callum groaned, chucking the knives back onto the rack, following Ben. 

“Now can we go again?”

“You didn’t want to train earlier?” Ben smiled. 

“Yeah well, I’d like to see your face when I beat you twice over.” Callum shrugged, grabbing two more knives from the rack. 

“See, just have that attitude... with everyone else?”

“Oh come on, I’ll wipe the floor with them.”

Just as Callum was about to launch himself and his knives at the Prince, someone stomped a spear on the ground and called the room to attention. 

Callum faced the voice and found a stocky, man standing beneath the balcony.

“Your attention now,” the man repeated. 

Callum looked to Ben, who nodded, taking the knives from him as they joined the twenty other competitors encircling the man. “I’m Charlie Savage, known to most as ‘Tubbs’, Weapons Master and judge of this competition. Of course, our king’s the final judge of you sorry lot, but I’ll be the one determining every day if you’re fit to be a Champion.”

He patted his sword hilt, and Callum had to admire the beautiful woven gold of the pommel. “I’ve been Weapons Master here for many years, and lived in this castle for more than that. I’ve trained many a lord and knight— and many a would-be Champion of Walford. It will be very hard to impress me.”

Beside Callum, even Ben stood with his shoulders back, deep respect for him. Given how easily Ben had kept up with him, if Ben had trained him, then the Weapons Master must live up to his title. 

Callum knew better than anyone not to underestimate opponents based on their appearance.

“The king’s already told you all there is to know about this tournament,” Tubbs said, holding his hands behind his back. “But I figured you lot are itching to know more about each other.” He pointed a stubby finger at Keanu. “You. What’s your name, occupation, and where do you hail from? And be honest about it—I know none of you are bakers and candlestick makers.”

Keanu’s insufferable grin returned. “Keanu, soldier in the king’s army. I hail from the Mountains.” 

Of course he did. Callum had heard tales of the brutality of the mountain folk from that region, and seen a few of them up close, seen the fierceness in their eyes. Many of them had rebelled against Walford—and most wound up dead. What would his fellow mountain-dwellers say if they could see him now? 

Tubbs, however, either didn’t know or didn’t care, and didn’t even give a nod before he pointed to the man to Keanu’s right. 

Callum immediately liked him. 

“And you?”

A slender, tall man with thinning blond hair surveyed the circle and sneered. He was a mere master thief.

Callum rolled his eyes, weighing him up, he could easily beat him. He then realised, his thinness probably aided in slipping into houses. Maybe it wasn’t a bluff.

One by one, the other competitors introduced themselves. Most were seasoned soldiers, which must have been truly questionable, given that Walford’s army was notorious for ruthlessness. 

“And you?” Tubbs said, cutting into his thoughts.

“Callum Highway,” he said, holding his chin high. “Walford’s assassin.”

“Ah, the famous Callum Highway. I expect good things from you.”

Some of the men sniggered, and Callum clenched his teeth. They’d stop their laughing if they knew what he was truly capable of. He could skin them alive without the aid of a knife. 

“You all have five minutes to put away your weapons and catch your breath. Then we’re on a mandatory run to see how fit you are. Those of you who can’t run the distance go home, or back to whatever prison your sponsors found you rotting in. Your first Test is in five days; consider us merciful it’s not sooner.”

With that, everyone scattered, the Champions murmuring to their trainers about whatever competitor they deemed the biggest threat. Keanu most likely. 

Ben remained beside Callum, watching the Champions stride off. 

Callum hadn’t spent so many years of his life building a reputation and a year labouring in Bycrest to be disregarded like this. 

“If they don’t take me seriously—”

Ben raised his brows. “You’ll do what, exactly?”

“Do you know how insulting it is to be some nobody?”

He stared Callum down, quiet for a moment. “Are you that arrogant?” Callum bristled, but he went on. “This is why I took you elsewhere. I’ll admit that I hadn’t realised you’d be that good. And do you want to know why, Callum?” He took a step closer, his voice lowering. “Because all they see is that pretty face of yours who could maybe handle a few knives. Look around.” 

He half-turned to the other Champions. 

“Is anyone staring at you? Are any of them sizing you up? No. Because you’re not real competition. Because you don’t stand between them and whatever freedom or wealth they’re looking for.”

“Exactly! It’s insulting!” Callum cried. 

“It’s smart, that’s what it is. And you’re going to keep a low profile throughout this entire tournament. You’re not going to excel, and you’re not going to destroy those soldiers. You’re going to stay solidly in the middle, where no one will look your way, because you’re not a threat, because they’ll think that you’ll be eliminated sooner or later, and they should focus their attention on getting rid of bigger, stronger, faster Champions like Keanu.”

Callum looked at Ben, clicking onto what he meant.

“But you’re going to outlast them,” Ben continued. “And when they wake up on the morning of the final duel and find that you are their opponent, and that you have beaten them, the look on their faces will make all of the insults and lack of attention worthwhile. Your going to be who they least expect.”

Ben started walking to the door, Callum already following him. 

“So, what do you have to say about that, Callum Highway?”

“I can look out for myself,” Callum said lightly, falling into step besides him. “But I have to say that you’re rather brilliant, Ben.”

“Think that’s the first nice thing you’ve ever said to me.” Ben smiled. 

“So brilliant, actually, that I might restrain myself from killing the guards outside my room tonight. After all, stealth is my thing.”

Ben chuckled, and they strode outside to where the running contest awaited.

~*~

“The middle.” Ben reminded before he left him. 

His lungs burned and his legs were heavy, but he kept running, kept his position in the middle of the pack of Champions. 

Tubbs, Ben, and the other trainers followed them around the game park on horseback. 

But to his surprise, Keanu led the pack, and was nearly ten yards in front of the rest of them. How could he possibly be that fast when he was built up?

The sound of crunching leaves and laboured breathing filled the warm autumn air, and Callum kept his gaze on the damp and gleaming dark hair of the man in front of him. One step after another, one breath in, one breath out. Breathe—he had to remember to keep breathing.

Ahead, Keanu turned a corner, heading north—back toward the castle. Like a flock of birds, they followed him. One step after another, never slowing down. 

Let them all watch Keanu, let them plot against him. He knew Ben was right, sliding in at the last minute when they all least expected it. He didn’t need to win the race to prove he was better—he was better without any kind of validation. 

Callum missed a breath, and his knees wobbled, but he kept upright. The run would be over soon. Soon.

He hadn’t even dared to look behind him to see if any had fallen. 

Callum could feel Ben’s eyes on him, though, reminding him to keep in the middle. At least he had that much faith in him. 

The trees parted, revealing the field that lay between the game park and the stables. The end of the path. His head spun, and he would have cursed at the stitch that lanced through his side had he had any breath to do so. He had to stay in the middle. Stay in the middle.

Keanu cleared the trees and raised his arms above his head in victory. He ran a few more feet, slowing his pace to cool down, and his trainer cheered for him. 

Callum’s only response was to keep his feet moving. Only a few yards left. The light of the open field grew brighter and brighter as it approached. Stars flashed before his eyes, swarming in his vision. He had to stay in the middle. Years of training had taught him the dangers of giving up too easily. 

Then, he was through the trees, and the open field surrounded him in an explosion of space and grass and blue sky. The men in front of him slowed to a stop. It was all he could do to keep from sinking to his knees, but he made his legs slow, slow, slow, made his feet walk, made himself take breath after breath as the stars continued bursting before his eyes.

“Good,” Tubbs said, reining his horse and surveying whoever had first returned. “Get water. We’ve got more training after this.”

Through the spots in his vision, he saw Ben stop his horse. 

Callum’s feet moved of their own accord toward him, then past, back to the woods. “Where are you going?”

“I dropped my ring back there, my brother grave it to me.” he lied, doing his best to look scatterbrained. “Just give me a moment to find it.” He casually held his hand over his other, still clearly wearing it.

Without waiting for his approval, Callum entered the trees to the sneers and snickers of the Champions who had overheard. 

From the approaching crashing noises, Callum knew another Champion was on his way out. 

He stepped into the cover of the bushes, stumbling as the world became dark and light and tilted. 

He had barely sunk to his knees when he vomited. His body still hadn’t recovered from being in the prisons, screaming at him to take it easy instead of working himself too hard. He heaved and heaved until he had nothing left inside. He was still weak from the prisons and needed to build his strength back. 

The straggling Champion passed by. 

On trembling limbs, Callum grappled onto a nearby tree and hauled himself upright again. 

He found Ben standing across the path, watching him with a disapproved look. “Okay?”

Callum wiped his mouth on the back of his wrist and said nothing to Ben as he exited the woods.


End file.
